Wednesday's Child
by LouBlue
Summary: "Stories are the wildest things of all. Stories chase and bite and hunt."―Patrick Ness, (A Monster Calls). It's Wednesday & the Doctor is preparing to collect Clara for more adventures. However, this time it's Clara who has a surprise for him. Nothing is as it seems as the Doctor tries to keep one step ahead when he discovers he's not the only one with an interest in Clara Oswald.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N****: So, I know I really shouldn't start another fic, but after watching Nightmare of Silver, I just find myself too inspired not to. LOL This is the first Doctor Who fic I've posted her. I've started a few others – Rose and Ten – but I'm really feeling the chemistry between Eleven and Clara, so thought I'd jot down a little story about them. **

**I'm not going to even attempt to unravel the mystery which is Clara. Steven Moffat will blow our minds regardless, so I'll just leave any Clara reveal to the Master and tell my little tale instead. I was intrigued by the idea of the Doctor and Clara only meeting up on Wednesdays and thought that was a good starting point. I have a little story I've planned for this tale around a thought I had about the Doctor. I know, suitably vague and confusing. *rolls eyes at self* **

**Anyways, I do love quirky, tortured characters and the Doctor is certainly that. I've been a fan of all of the latest incarnations of the Doctor and think MS is doing a great job with it all. I am also a huge CE and DT fan – I loved all of their interpretations. So, nothing really happens in this first chapter (yeah, I really know how to sell my stories, don't I? LOL ) but I do start up a small mystery. **

**If anyone is interested in finding out about this mystery, let me know and I'll continue on. **

**Thanks for checking out my story, and I hope you had fun with it. I know I did. :D **

**Wednesday's Child****...**

Monday's child is fair of face,

Tuesday's child is full of grace,

Wednesday's child is full of woe,

Thursday's child has far to go,

Friday's child is loving and giving,

Saturday's child works hard for a living,

But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day

Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.

**Chapter One**

The Doctor craned his neck and looked up at Clara's open window. He grinned as an impulse to surprise her came over him. He'd always had good luck with his impulses... well, some good luck... well, the occasional bit of good luck still counted as good luck. At least that was what the Doctor told himself. Besides, he was already half-way up the rose-covered trellis on the way to Clara's window, carefully picking his way between the thorns. She'd teased him the last time they'd travelled together that he was becoming predictable. The nerve of the girl, him, predictable? Simply inconceivable. The only thing predictable about him was how unpredictable he could be. Which, technically did make him predictable, but he was at the top of the trellis now and didn't want to think about it anymore.

The Doctor popped his head through the window, a big grin on his face. "Hello, Clara, rise and shine, my girl." Clara's bed was dishevelled as though she'd just gotten out of it but there was no sign of his erstwhile companion. The Doctor could hear the sound of the shower running in the little ensuite which joined her bedroom. He raised his voice so she could hear him over the running water. "A full day of exploring time and space lies in wait for you and I've got one thing to say to you... Myxl-Temma." His grin widened, pleased with himself for coming up with a fun plan for the day. "Well, technically that's a hyphenated word, but we'll count it as one, eh? He lives on a planet only a couple of billion light years from here and he is the original Tooth Fairy. Yes, that's right," he continued on blithely, leaning his elbows on the window sill. "_The_ Tooth Fairy of all your Earth legends. He got lost one day and crash landed on your planet. Wound up making quite a name for himself with your ancestors as it turned out. They ended up calling him the Tooth Fairy because of all of his shenanigans. Well, I say fairy, he is rather on the large side to be what you humans like to consider a fairy and those wings are more for show then actual propulsion but whatever you do, don't bring it up. He's very sensitive about his weight and the size of his wings. And when I say tooth, he's rather fond of anything calcium-rich, so Myxl does like to collect the odd bits of bone as well." The water had stopped running. "Funny story how we met actually-"

The Doctor's story was interrupted by a blood-curdling scream as a young woman with blonde hair appeared in the doorway, wrapped in a towel. She was staring at him in horror.

The Doctor blinked. "Clara, have you done something with your hair?"

"Who are you?!" yelled the young woman. "What are you doing in my window?!"

"Oh," said the Doctor in surprise, "you're not Clara." Now that the Doctor thought about it, this didn't look exactly like Clara's room. It was Clara's room, but none of her things were there. Instead posters of the Beatles adorned the wall and the dress hanging on the hook on the back of the door had a decidedly 60's vibe to it.

"No, I bloody ain't!" said the woman sharply, her face flushed in anger. "Get out of my room!"

The Doctor grimaced. "It appears there's been the tiniest bit of a mistake, maybe it was me, maybe it was you, who can say," he said quickly. "The important thing is we don't need to point fingers."

"Dad!" screeched the girl. "DAD!"

A concerned male voice answered her cry. "Hattie?"

"There's some bloke tryin' to climb through my window and kidnap me!" shouted Hattie.

The Doctor shook his head rapidly. "Oh no, no, I'm not trying to kidnap you. I came for another girl. I was going to take her. I'm here for Clara."

Hattie's eyes went wide. "What are you, some kind of serial killer? You collect innocent girls?"

The Doctor wrinkled his nose. "I feel like we're getting off on the wrong foot here, Hattie." He went to heave himself into the window and try and explain. "You don't mind if I call you Hattie, do you-ARRGGH!" The Doctor's attempts to reason with the excitable girl were cut off by the impact of a heavy, silver hairbrush between the eyes. His head snapped back and he lost his grip on the trellis, promptly falling backwards out of the window and through the creeping roses down onto the ground below. The Doctor landed on his back with a dull thud, the air rushing out of his lungs in a noisy grunt of pain. He blinked up at the early morning sky in a bit of a daze. "If I'd been human that could have done me a real mischief," he mused aloud to no one in particular. The Doctor went to sit up and pulled a face. "Still, didn't exactly tickle." Something was digging into his lower back and he twisted around to remove it. He drew out the silver hairbrush he'd inconveniently landed on which he could now see had a large letter 'H' monogrammed on its back. The Doctor stood up, hairbrush in hand as Hattie stuck her head out the window, followed very quickly by a brawny bald man. The Doctor put on his most charming smile. "Ah," he said brightly, "you must be Hattie's father. Let me introduce myself, I'm the-"

"I don't care who you are!" yelled the red-faced man. "Stay where you are. You and me have got things to talk about." With that the man's bald head disappeared from the window.

Hattie gave him a self-satisfied look. "My Dad used to be a champion boxer. He's gonna come down there and pull your arms off and beat you to death with them."

The Doctor blanched. "So, we're abandoning Queensberry Rules then?" he asked unevenly. "I don't seem to remember a lot of dismemberment in their rule book."

"That'll teach you for tryin' it on with some helpless girl, you pervert," said Hattie in triumph.

"I wasn't trying anything on," said the Doctor indignantly. "This was all just a case of mistaken timing, that's all." He could hear the front door of the house slamming. "You know, I think there is an outside chance I may have worn out my welcome here." A fuming Hattie's father was storming towards him and he really was a very big man. The Doctor held up the hairbrush. "I have your hairbrush, Hattie. I'll just leave it with your dad, okay?" He didn't wait for an answer as Hattie's father was directly in front of him now and didn't look to be in the mood for any kind of rational discussion or returning of hairbrushes for that matter. The Doctor gave him a jaunty wave. "Hello there, I was just leaving." He went to move past the man on the left but at the last moment, faked him out and went with the right, just managing to dart past the towering human and make a dash for the TARDIS.

"You can run but you can't hide, little man!" roared the man from behind him as the Doctor disappeared through the blue doors of the TARDIS.

Once inside, he leant back on the doors and blew out a long breath, shoving the inadvertently stolen hairbrush in his coat pocket. "That's where you're wrong, Hattie's Dad," said the Doctor blithely. "I can hide quite well, thank you very much." He pushed himself away from the door and strode up the walkway to the centre console. The Doctor looked around the room, glaring. "I suppose you think that was funny?" The TARDIS gave no response other than its usual gentle hum. The Doctor wasn't to be ignored though. "You knew perfectly well I was aiming for Clara's timeline," he said indignantly, "and you made me miss by half a century." The TARDIS continued to just hum. "It won't do, you know," said the Doctor sharply, "this thing you have with Clara. She's in my life and you're just going to have to accept it or else." He squeezed his eyes close, bracing for some kind of indignant retaliation from the TARDIS. Like most women of a certain age, she really didn't like being told what to do. When no immediate display of wrath was forthcoming, the Doctor opened one eye and looked around warily. He gave a little nod of approval and opened the eye, tugging on the front of his coat. "Good," he said firmly, "I'm glad we had this little chat. Now, I believe it's Wednesday somewhere out in that swirly, whirly, wibbly wobbly timey whimy thing and that means Clara is waiting for me." The Doctor caught himself. "I mean us," he corrected himself hastily. "Clara's waiting for us, because we're a team and always will be, so there is no need to be jealous." He cast a curious eye at the console. "Are you jealous?" he asked tentatively. "Is that what this thing with Clara is about, or is it something else?" The TARDIS offered no insight on the subject and not for the first time, the Doctor wished his stolen co-conspirator could talk. She'd done it once before and he'd have given a lot to hear the TARDIS's theories on Clara because as of right now, the Doctor had exactly none.

The impossible girl became more impossible every day he spent with her. The Doctor had no answers when it came to her, just more questions. It had never taken him this long to figure out a question, not when he'd really put his mind to it. Clara was an itch he couldn't scratch, a twitch in his nose that refused to become a sneeze. The Doctor rubbed his forehead distractedly, once again lost in his thoughts over one Clara Oswald. He winced as his fingers encountered what felt like a bruise on his forehead from Hattie's brush. The girl might have been overly dramatic, but she was a very good shot. The Doctor straightened up and turned back to the console, making another attempt at meeting up with Clara. It was yet another question he had about why the girl insisted on them only meeting on a Wednesday. Of course, it didn't make any kind of difference to the Doctor, any given day or moment could be a Wednesday to him but from Clara's point of view, she was waiting a whole week in between seeing him. So, when Clara walked out that door, she didn't see him for seven days and seemed fine with it. For his part, the Doctor found himself immediately setting the TARDIS for another Wednesday as soon as Clara had disappeared from his sight. At first the Doctor hadn't realised he was doing it and when he did, he told himself he could stop any time he wanted. Only, as it turned out, he couldn't. Clara was becoming a kind of compulsion to him, like a ragged piece of quick from your fingernail that you couldn't stop gnawing on, even when it became painful and you could taste blood. The Doctor had been tasting blood around Clara for awhile now, but he simply couldn't stop.

The centre column of the TARDIS lumbered up and down, sending them on their way and in no time, the Doctor was at his destination. At least, he hoped he was this time. He stuck his head out of the TARDIS and looked around warily. The street seemed suitably London, 21st century, so he stepped outside. Abandoning making an entrance this time, the Doctor walked up to the front door. He rang the doorbell and then did a hasty check of his appearance, running a hand through his hair and rearranging his clothing. Something prickled the back of his neck as he adjusted his coat while rubbing one shoe on the back of his calf to give it a quick buff up. The Doctor reached back into the collar of his coat and drew out a rather bedraggled climbing white rose. The vaguely flattened looking stem must have come from his rapid and unplanned descent down the trellis just a few minutes before. The Doctor was looking at in surprise as the front door opened. His attention was immediately on the short, dark-haired woman in front of him. "Clara!" he said in delight. "How lovely to see you again. It's been ages." That was a lie. In fact, for the Doctor, it had only been sixteen minutes and fifty-eight seconds since he'd last seen her. It would have been markedly less if he hadn't made that wrong turn and ended up in the sixties.

Clara's look was indulgent. "It's been a week," she informed him and then her attention was focused on the rose he was holding up. "Is that for me?"

The Doctor looked at the rose in his hand with surprise. "I suppose it is, yes, why not." He shoved it at her. "There you go."

Clara took it with a perplexed look on her face as the limp flower lost a couple of petals in the transaction. "Thanks, I think." She looked back at the Doctor quizzically. "What happened to it?"

"I fell on it," said the Doctor easily, "from a great height."

Clara wrinkled her nose prettily. "I'm not going to ask."

"Probably for the best."

Clara was looking him over again. "You're in a bit of a state."

"Am I?"

"You look kind of all over the place and you've got scratches on your hands." Another perusal from Clara ensued. "And is that a hairbrush in your pocket?"

"No," said the Doctor blithely, a large smile on his face, "I'm just happy to see you."

Clara stared at him, looking a little uncertain.

The Doctor started, remembering. "Oh no, wait, yes, that is a hairbrush in my pocket." He reached in and drew out the former missile and waved it about.

"Why would you have hairbrush in your coat pocket?" asked Clara hesitantly.

"Maybe the real question is why _wouldn't_ you have a hairbrush in your pocket?" the Doctor countered easily. Now it was his turn to look Clara over. She seemed a bit more dressed up than usual. Her makeup was usually subtle, but this time it was decidedly more dramatic and the dress she was wearing was not her normal fare either. It was made of red velvet and wrapped itself around her body in a way that managed to make you feel like you were seeing a lot more than you actually were. The Doctor blinked, taking in the way Clara's skirt flared out slightly around her hips and then stopped at her knees, revealing surprisingly long legs on someone so short, with decidedly non-sensible shoes at the end of it all. "I don't think this outfit is going to be that practical where we're going today," he offered up. "There may be some climbing, in fact, there definitely will be some climbing and those shoes just won't do at all."

Clara made a regretful face. "I can't today, Doctor."

"Of course you can," said the Doctor jovially. "You've got plenty of other clothes. I'll wait while you change."

Clara bit her bottom lip. "I mean I can't go with you tonight."

The Doctor blinked. "But it's Wednesday." He frowned. "It is Wednesday, isn't it? I haven't overshot again, have I?"

"What do you mean, overshot?"

"Nothing."

Clara rolled her eyes. "Okay. Well, it is Wednesday."

"Excellent! Never had a moment's doubt."

"However, you may not have noticed, Doctor, but it's getting dark."

The Doctor looked around and did realise for the first time the day's light was leaving them as the late afternoon rolled by. "Yes, but I don't see what that has to do with shoes."

"I was here all day," said Clara, "waiting for you."

The Doctor clapped his hands together. "And now I'm here!" he announced exuberantly. "Don't you love it when a plan comes together?"

"I'm going out."

The Doctor's head bobbed up and down. "I know, as soon as you change your shoes."

"I mean I've got other plans," said Clara in exasperation.

"What kind of other plans?"

Clara eyes skidded away from him and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Ah, you know, plans."

"No, I don't know, that's why I'm asking."

"She's got a date." The disembodied voice of Angie, Clara's eldest charge, came from somewhere behind the half-opened door.

The Doctor pushed the door the rest of the way open to seek out more information. "A date?"

Angie was sitting on the second step of the stairs, engrossed in texting on her phone. "Yeah, his name is Rhomeo Dysseys." The teenager wrinkled her nose, still typing away. "He spells his first name with an 'H' but it's silent. What's the point of having a silent letter in your name? It's just dumb and it's not like a name that sounds like Romeo isn't bad enough."

"Yes, thank you, Angie," said Clara with a vague tone of annoyance, "you've already been more than forthcoming about your opinion about Rhomeo's name."

A date, the Doctor hadn't been expecting this but he rallied quickly. "Well, that's fine, I'll have you back in time for your date." He smiled broadly and jerked his head back towards the waiting TARDIS. "Time machine, remember?"

"You just finished telling me you're having trouble with getting where you need to be with that thing," Clara pointed out. "You can barely land on a Wednesday, let alone ten minutes from now."

"It's just a momentary glitch," said the Doctor dismissively. "The TARDIS is fine now and please, don't call her a thing." He lowered his voice. "She may be listening." He shot a quick, nervous glance over his shoulder. "You know how she is."

"I do," agreed Clara, "and that's why I'm not going anywhere with you tonight. I'm sorry, you'll have to come back next week."

"What?" squawked the Doctor. "Next week?"

"I've got plans," said Clara firmly.

"But-but we had plans."

"And then you were late, so I had another offer," said Clara simply. She smiled up at him. "See you next Wednesday." With that she promptly closed the door on him, leaving a bemused Doctor to try and work out what had just happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N****: Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, favourite and followed my first chapter. DW is a giant fandom, the biggest I've ever written for so I'm pretty amazed my story wasn't immediately buried in the huge number of fics popping up every day for this ship. The whole concept of DW does excite the imagination, so it's to be expected. That's why we're all here, after all. :D **

**For those of you who haven't read my other stories, I'm a huge fan of dialog... somewhat of a ho for it actually. The great thing about the Doctor is that he's a talker, so I can totally get down with that. LOL Matt Smith also brings a lot of energy and mannerisms to the role, which is a little harder to capture on the page, but I figure, if you're reading this story, you're a fan and can picture all of that in your head. Ah, the joys of fan fiction, great for filling in the blanks in your stories. **

**So thank you to everyone who said they were interested in reading more. This chapter doesn't advance the story too much, but I do like to lay the groundwork for my stories and besides, I ended up having fun with this scene, so just let the muse run with it. I had a bit of trouble working out how to end it (I'd appreciate you all pretending you didn't notice that when you come to it – okay? Okay. ;) ) **

**Enough from me, read on and see what you make of it all...**

**Chapter Two**

"I don't know why Clara would go and make other plans just because I was the teensiest bit late," said the Doctor moodily as he slouched down on the sofa, sandwiched between Angie and Artie who were involved in a fight to the death on their X-Box. "I'm a very important person, you know. Stuff to do, things to see, I can't be waiting on the whims of some little human with impractical tastes in shoes."

The children grunted a vague reply, clearly not that interested.

"I mean, a date, really," carried on the Doctor. "What's that all about anyway? I'm showing Clara the mysteries of the universe through all time and space. What could Mr. Silent H possibly have to compare to that?" The Doctor hadn't really expected Clara to go off to meet the fellow but she had. It rankled and he couldn't exactly work out why. Something wasn't right here.

"His car was nice," offered up Artie distractedly as he did battle with digital goblins.

"Ah, hello, the _TARDIS_," said the Doctor in disbelief. "I have a time machine that can travel in space."

"It's a blue box," observed Angie with the ruthless simplicity of a child. "It doesn't look cool."

"And it smells funny," added on Artie.

The Doctor sucked in an irate breath. "She does not." He looked miffed. "If anything, the TARDIS has a delightful musk hinting at her many adventures and simply adds to her charms."

Angie was unrelenting. "Your box smells like cabbage soup."

"I like cabbage soup," said the Doctor snippily.

"That's because you're weird," she countered.

"You're weird," he shot back childishly.

Suddenly Angie gave a cry of distress as her character met an untimely fate. "Look what you made me do," she huffed.

"What I made you do?" repeated the Doctor in outrage. "It's not my fault you don't know not to go into a Goblin's cave. Everyone knows you don't go into a Goblin's cave."

"I was looking for the treasure," said Angie in agitation.

"There's no treasure to be found in a Goblin's cave. Everyone knows you have to find a Dragon's Den if you're looking for treasure."

Angie glared at him. "How would you know?"

"I helped make this game," said the Doctor blithely.

"No, you didn't," replied a disbelieving Angie.

"Well, if I didn't help make this game, then who is that in the corner of the screen, guarding the Secret Tree of Whimsy?" he threw back.

Angie sent him a wary look but then took a closer look at the screen. Sure enough, a tall, thin man, wearing a bow tie over the top of his suit of armour, was a character who looked uncannily like the Doctor.

"I don't believe it," gasped Artie.

"Told you," said the Doctor smugly.

Distracted by this surprising revelation, Artie didn't see the Troll sneaking up behind him and his character was dispatched with a mace to the head.

The Doctor nodded knowing as the boy gave a cry of annoyance. "That's Trolls for you. Sneaky little beggars."

Angie sent him a miffed look. "Why are you here?"

The Doctor looked at her blankly. "What do you mean? I came to pick up Clara."

"But Clara's not here," she pointed out. "She's on a date."

"I know," he replied snippily.

"Then why are you still here?" asked Angie in exasperation.

The Doctor shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I'm at a loose end."

"But you can go anywhere," Artie pointed out. "Why would you want to stay here?"

"I don't want to stay here," the Doctor protested. The two children just stared at him and he scowled. "I'm just planning what really awesomely fun thing I'm going to do next. That's all."

Angie arched an eyebrow. "Funny, I thought you were waiting for Clara."

The Doctor pouted. "Don't be ridiculous."

The girl smiled knowingly. "You're jealous."

The Doctor was genuinely scandalised by such an accusation. "The very notion," he gasped in outrage. "I'm the Doctor. I'm a nine hundred year old alien who flies around in a blue box through all space and time. Time Lords don't get jealous. It's a thoroughly antiquated and human concept."

Angie didn't look convinced. "You're acting like you're jealous."

The Doctor narrowed his eyes as he gave Angie a considered look. "You know, I never liked you." He looked over at the boy on his other side. "Artie, you're my new favourite."

"Cool," said Artie happily.

Angie rolled her eyes. "I didn't want to be your favourite anyways."

"Well, that's work out nicely then, hasn't it?" replied the Doctor with a sweet smile.

"For someone so old, you can be pretty childish sometimes," she informed him.

"There is absolutely no point in getting older if you can't be childish on a regular occasion," the Doctor declared.

Angie gave up on that line of conversation and attempted some reasoning. "Look, why don't you get in your box and go back in time and pick up Clara earlier today? Then you two wouldn't be fighting."

The Doctor folded his arms in front of his chest. "I could do that, but maybe I don't want to anymore." The truth was, despite his earlier declarations of faith in the TARDIS, the Doctor wasn't overly confident he could manage a short backwards jump in time like that. At least, not with the mood the TARDIS seemed to be in today. "And we're not fighting and even if we were, Clara started it."

Angie shook her head. "Like I said, you're being childish."

"It's the principle of the thing," protested the Doctor.

"What principle?" asked Artie innocently.

The Doctor waved his hands around vaguely. "Just, you know, the general principle-ness of it all." The children were staring at him again and he was back to being annoyed. "What kind of name is Rhomeo Dysseys anyways?" he asked irritably. "It's a thoroughly ridiculous name."

"That's what I said," observed Angie.

The Doctor's head bobbed up in down in approval. "You're a very clever girl, Angie. I've always said so. You're my new favourite."

"Hey!" protested Artie.

Angie smirked. "Suck it."

"At least the guy has a name," noted a put out Artie. "You don't."

"Yes, I do," said the Doctor indignantly.

Artie look was full of challenge. "Okay, what is it then?"

"That's a story for another day," said the Doctor morosely. "And besides, this isn't about me."

Artie cocked his head. "What's it about then?"

"It's about people not being where they said they were going to be when you expected them to be there, even though you'd made clear arrangements that you'd most likely be exactly where you said you'd be or somewhere in the general vicinity of it at a time plus or minus a little head and or tail wind. That's what this is about."

"I thought it was about principles?" shot back Artie.

The Doctor sent him a sour look. "I'm demoting you from my favourite."

"You just did that," pointed out the boy.

"I did?"

"Yes, before."

"Oh, well, I'm doing it again."

"You can't."

"I can if I want."

Angie threw herself back in the sofa and gave the Doctor an exasperated look. "I can see why Clara made other plans tonight. You're really annoying."

"Charming," the Doctor corrected her, "it's pronounced char-ming."

"It really isn't."

The Doctor was exasperated by these little human's attitude. "Look, I'm just trying to look out for Clara. When you come on board the TARDIS, I become responsible for you. That's all this is."

"Clara's not on board the TARDIS," Artie reminded him.

"Why do children have to be so relentlessly literal?" snapped the Doctor. "I just meant that when you travel with me then I feel responsible for your safety."

"That must mean you feel responsible for a lot of people," noted Angie.

The Doctor pulled a face. "I'm not going to lie, some days it does feel like a lot to worry about."

Artie was looking concerned now. "Do you really think Clara is in danger?"

The Doctor felt guilty for worrying the boy. "No, I mean, probably not, possibly not... maybe. I mean, what do we know about this Rhomeo with a silent H anyways?"

"Speaking of H's," said Artie. "How come you've got one on your forehead?"

"What?"

"You got an H on your forehead."

"No, I don't," said the Doctor indignantly.

"Yeah, you do," returned Artie.

The Doctor sprang up from the sofa and hurried over to the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. He took a close look at his reflection and there was indeed a red mark in the shape of an H imprinted on his forehead.

"Told you," said Artie knowingly.

The Doctor grimaced. "I was hit in the forehead with a hairbrush hurled by a hellion called Hattie," he explained and tried scrubbing at the mark. "It was a lucky shot."

"Not that lucky," noted Angie dryly. "Your forehead is enormous. It'd be pretty hard to miss."

"My forehead is not enormous," declared the Doctor indignantly as he turned this way and that to observe it at different angles. "It's majestic." He frowned and turned around, sounding a little less certain. "You really think I have a big forehead?"

"It's not small," observed Angie, eyeing his forehead critically.

"Yeah, well, you're short," threw back the Doctor defensively.

"I'm still growing," she shot back at him. "You know, just like your forehead."

The Doctor put a protective hand to his forehead and scowled at her.

Angie's lips quirked. "I know, you're demoting me again."

"With honours," said the Doctor roundly.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Dishonours then," said the Doctor, not giving up.

"We should check it out on Facebook," suggested Artie suddenly.

"My forehead doesn't have its own Facebook page," snapped the Doctor.

Artie grinned. "I meant Rhomeo. We should check out if he's on Facebook or whatever and see if he's a nice guy."

The Doctor clicked his fingers together. "Ooh, I like it, good thinking, Artie. You're my favourite again."

"I was already your favourite," he reminded the older man.

The Doctor wrinkled his nose. "Where you?"

"Yes."

"Hmm, this is getting confusing. We probably need some other reward system." The Doctor tilted his head, thinking about the problem. "Something involving a sash maybe?"

Artie looked unimpressed. "I'm not wearing a sash."

Angie was more open to the idea. "What colour sash?"

The Doctor didn't have time for sashes, even though it was his idea. "To the computer!" he said dramatically. He raced up the stairs to where he knew the family computer was kept and hastily logged on. The Doctor sat at the screen, the children crowding in on either side of him. He quickly found Rhomeo Dysseys' Facebook page and started to scrutinise it carefully. Images of a handsome blonde man filled the screen, along with seemingly endless pictures of friends and family. The Doctor scanned through his likes and dislikes. "Oh," said the Doctor as he screwed up his face like he was sucking a lemon, "he's a cat fancier. Ick."

"What's wrong with cats?" asked Artie in surprise. "A lot of people like cats."

"Well, they're all wrong," said the Doctor dismissively. "Once you've had a nun cat in a wimple try and infect you with every known disease in the universe, you'll be singing a different tune. It'll be dogs all the way then."

Artie and Angie looked at each other in consternation, clearly having no idea what he was talking about but the Doctor didn't have time to explain. Something wasn't right. He could feel it. Something was out of place, like a piano missing the very last wire for its top note. You don't know until you play that one special piece of music which called for the last top C note and you realise only then something is awry. It buzzed around in the Doctor's head, taunting him that he couldn't see what felt like was right in front of his nose. "It's the name, the name," he muttered to himself. "That name, it just isn't right."

"I have a girl in my class whose name is Krixxy and she spells it with two X's," offered up Artie.

"Mm," murmured the Doctor distractedly, "good for her."

"Rhomeo seems really nice," said Artie, reading over the Doctor's shoulder. He pointed at the screen. "Look, he even likes the Teenage Ninja Mutant Turtles. Michelangelo is his favourite."

The Doctor sniffed. "That proves nothing, Michelangelo is everyone's favourite."

"I liked Donatello," disagreed Artie.

The Doctor shrugged. "It takes all kinds, I suppose."

"He's a doctor," noted Angie. "Not bad."

"Oh please," snorted the Doctor, "you should never trust a doctor. They're the last people in the world you should trust."

Angie's look was pointed. "_You're_ a doctor."

"No, I'm _the_ Doctor, that's completely different."

"Yeah," snarked Angie, "you're not rich."

The Doctor was affronted. "How do you know I'm not rich?"

"You live in a box," she pointed out.

"I live in a space ship," the Doctor said snippily. "It just happens to be in the shape of a box, that's all."

Angie shrugged. "It's still a box." She looked back at the screen. "But maybe you're right about this Rhomeo guy. He's gorgeous and rich and smart. What would he want with Clara?"

The Doctor side-eyed her. "I'll tell her you said that."

"You know what I mean," she said unapologetically. "There's lots of weirdos out there. I've been watching the news lately and every day there seems to be more people who are going missing around London."

The Doctor frowned. "What kind of people?"

"All sorts. Young, old, men, women, their families say they're just not there one day. They walk out the door and never come back." Angie lowered her voice, tone suddenly conspiratorial. "I go to school with this girl Kisha and her Gran went to bingo last week and never came back. No one's seen her since."

Artie's young face was creased in worry. "Clara isn't going to go away and not come back, is she?" he asked tremulously.

The Doctor was reminded of how not long ago that same fate had befallen the children's mother. "Absolutely not," said the Doctor roundly. "Nothing is going to happen to Clara and you know why?"

"Because you're going to do something stupid?" said Angie, straight-faced.

The Doctor sent her a dark look. "No, because she's under my protection," he said determinedly.

"Have you ever noticed that people only seem to need your protection when you start protecting them?" Angie quizzed him.

The Doctor grimaced. "That may have been pointed out to me once or twice in the past."

"What are you going to do?" asked Artie curiously.

"Do you have a plan to work out if this Rhomeo guy is dodgy or not?" chimed in Angie.

"I always have a plan," said the Doctor with great certainty. He pursed his lips. "Well, except for the times I don't, but everything seems to come out in the wash one way or the other." The children were treating him to sceptical looks. "Don't worry. I know what I'm doing." That wasn't exactly true, but they didn't need to know that. He grinned at them reassuringly. "Nice fact finding, team." The Doctor leapt up and patted them both on the head at the same time. "Sashes all round," he said exuberantly. With that the Doctor was turning around and heading back to the TARDIS, hurrying down the stairs two at a time. He felt happier now, always more at home with doing something over just waiting around and seeing what was going to happen. The Doctor was confident something wasn't right about this whole thing and he was going to rescue Clara whether she liked it or not. She was, after all, his responsibility and he was just being responsible and Clara was absolutely going to see it that way.

Wasn't she?

**A/N****: Okay, we find out the Doctor's plan, or lack thereof in the next chapter and we also get the ball rolling with whether or not his fears are well founded. Hope you'll stick with this little story. Let me know what you'd like to see in it and I might be able to accommodate. It's always fun to have some reader's input. ;) **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N****: Okay, so I ended up splitting this chapter into two, because it was getting too big. **

**Basically this chapter is a bit of exposition and a lot of character filling in. As I'm writing this chapter, the character of Clara has not been wholly defined yet. Seeing as I'm writing a story where she plays a pivotal part, I couldn't leave her in this amorphous state. I've gone ahead and filled in some Clara blanks with what she is thinking and feeling because like I've said, as of right now, SM has left us hanging as to who or what Clara is and what she is really thinking about everything. She's kind of a blank canvas and we all know SM is going to write on her, but in the meantime, I've got a fic to finish! **

**Of course, once I've defined the Clara for this story, SM is most likely going to come along and made my interpretations invalid with some big, mind blowing reveal and I'll be cursing him while secretly fangirling my brains out. LOL So, if anyone stumbles across this fic post some kind of Clara reveal and find it completely untrue to cannon... take it up with Steven Moffat – it's all his fault. ;) **

**Now, from the above, you can possible gather I'm a big fan of character exposition. I like to get into the heads and hearts of the characters I write about and in amongst all the tom foolery, that's exactly what I intend to do. So, please stay tuned for that, won't you? **

**Thanks again for reading and let's get on with it, shall we? **

**Chapter Three**

"It does not take much strength to do things,

but it requires a great deal of strength to decide what to do."

~Elbert Hubbard~

"_You've been quiet, something on your mind?" _

_Clara gave an apologetic smile to her friend. "Sorry, Liz, miles away." And then some. Clara couldn't stop thinking about her last trip with the Doctor. It wasn't so much what they'd done but something he'd let slip. _

"_I don't mind doing most of the talking, but I wouldn't mind the occasional grunt from you now and then," Liz teased her. She regarded Clara curiously. "What's up? Is it boy trouble?" _

_Clara pulled a face at her friend she'd known since nursery school. "He's not a boy." _

"_Okay, man trouble then." _

"_He's not exactly a man either," Clara admitted ruefully. More of a nearly thousand year old alien situation, but she could hardly tell Liz that, not without her friend thinking she'd gone bonkers. _

"_Wow, okay, bigger trouble then I thought then." Liz leant over the table, lowering her voice so no one else in the coffee shop could hear them. "Did you catch him trying on your underwear?" _

_Clara blushed. "No, of course not!" She looked around self-consciously. "It's not like that with us." _

_Liz sat back in her seat and clucked knowingly. "It never is until it is. One minute you think you're dating Jason Stratham and the next he looks like he could be auditioning for the Moulin Rouge." _

"_The Doctor isn't Roger," said Clara emphatically. Liz's college boyfriend had been the subject of much discussion between them in the past. _

"_He doesn't go by Roger now, it's Carlotta," said Liz casually. _

"_That's pretty," noted Clara absently. _

"_Prettier than him in anything backless," agreed Liz. _

_Clara half-smiled. "I liked Roger, sorry, Carlotta." _

"_I still do, we go on girls only shopping expeditions together now." _

"_That's very modern of you." _

_Liz leaned back in her chair and gave a little shrug. "Like they say, if life gives you lemons, go and shop for Jimmy Choos." _

"_Words to live by," said Clara mockingly. _

_Liz pointed a finger at her. "Look, babe, dating Roger taught me two things. One, don't date a man with more dresses in their wardrobe than you-"_

_Clara rolled her eyes and shook her head. Liz had the absolute worst taste in men she could actually have a long term relationship with. _

"_And two, always listen to your instincts." Liz's look was pointed. "What do your instincts tell you about the Doctor?" _

"_Run," said Clara without hesitation. _

_Liz arched an eyebrow at her. "And would that be running towards him or running away?" _

_Clara closed her eyes and dropped her head back in an attitude of defeat. "I don't know," she groaned. _

_Liz took a sip of her coffee. "Tricky," she said sympathetically. _

_Clara was still looking up at the ceiling. "He's married." She didn't know why his revelation to her amidst so many other startling things he'd told and showed her had stood out, but it did. _

"_Married?" _

"_Yes, I mean, I think so." She stopped looking at the ceiling and met Liz's concerned gaze. "He said my wife and I came here once," said Clara unhappily. "Not my ex-wife or my dead wife or the wife I'm separated from but my wife." _

"_What did he say when you asked him about it?" asked Liz curiously. _

"_I didn't ask him about it," confessed Clara. "I mean, we're not romantically involved. He could have a dozen wives and it shouldn't matter to me." _

"_Only it does," supplied Liz knowingly. _

"_No... yes... I don't know," Clara admitted in frustration. The thing was she'd been a bit taken aback when the Doctor had made reference to a granddaughter but then so much had happened just after that, Clara hadn't given it much more thought. The Doctor was a strange alien, he said strange, alien things all the time but the word wife had sounded so incredibly human to Clara in that moment. It brought home to her just how little she knew about the man she'd agreed to go off gallivanting around the universe with. Clara felt like the Doctor knew everything there was to know about her, especially once she'd found out he'd been most likely stalking her from before she was born. She didn't find that so much creepy as confusing. Why on earth would the Doctor do that? Did he screen everyone he invited on board the TARDIS that way? Clara suspected not, which brought her back to being baffled as to why he seemed so interested in her when there were far more compelling people in the universe to be getting on with. _

_The impossible girl._

_That's what the Cyber Controller had told her the Doctor thought of her as. In what way was she impossible? Clara couldn't imagine a more average person than her. She'd asked the Doctor at the time but his mind had been a little crowded so there was no answer, but that seemed to be his specialty when it came to questions anyway. The thing was, Clara wasn't exactly sure she wanted to know more about the Doctor. At the moment it was simple, well, relatively simple. He came for her every Wednesday and they'd do something crazy or dangerous or brilliant in some time or place that Clara could never have imagined, and then he'd deliver her back at her doorstep. Simple, right? But the more time she spent with the Doctor, the more Clara suspected that nothing ever stayed uncomplicated with the Doctor for long. She'd caught herself wishing away her week until it was Wednesday again and that realisation had frightened her. It didn't take a genius to work out that the Doctor was a larger than life character. Clara could see how easy it would be to become totally caught up in that enormous persona of his and if she let that happened, what would become of her? _

_The Doctor had asked her if she felt safe with him, warned her anything could happen to her and she'd replied that was what she was counting on. The glib words had rolled off her tongue so easily and at the time she'd meant them. It was only now, as those that vague anything came closer and started to take threatening shape, did Clara worry that she wasn't ready for the world the Doctor was so intent on showing her. It would be so easy to be overwhelmed by him, swept up into his intoxicating madness which made your head spin and knees go weak. She'd told him she hadn't been afraid of a future with him in her life but that was before the shadows crept in. It felt like there was someone whispering in her ear, trying to tell her something, something she'd forgotten long ago but try as she might, Clara couldn't get those whispers to make sense. Her attention was brought back to the real world when Liz put her hand over hers. _

"_Look, babe, just take care of yourself, okay?" she said in concern. "No man is worth tying yourself up in knots like this. Whatever the Doctor is to you, or what you want him to be, just keep in mind not everyone gets a story like your Mum and Dad. Theirs was magical right from the get go." Liz gave a warm smile. "The rest of us mere mortals have to deal with love stories which are a lot more mundane." _

_Liz was probably right, but Clara didn't want to admit that out loud. Secretly she wanted everyone to have the kind of love story her parents had enjoyed, minus the sad ending, of course. "This isn't a love story," said Clara determinedly. _

"_How do you know that when the story isn't over yet?" asked Liz simply. _

_Clara shook her head at her friend in exasperation. "I don't even think the Doctor can fall in love. He's too-too-" Clara struggled to find the right word, "-alien," she finished weakly, knowing Liz wouldn't take that literally, even though she should. _

_Liz gave an inelegant snort. "Nobody or nothing is too alien for love, trust me." _

_Clara glanced at her watch, not entirely comfortable with this conversation. "I've got to go, I'll miss my tube." _

"_Nice side step," said Liz dryly as she watched Clara stand up and collect her bag. "Want to catch a movie tomorrow?" Clara hesitated but Liz was already talking again. "Oh, wait, it's Wednesday. You'll be waiting on your mysterious Doctor, silly me." _

"_I don't wait on him," said Clara a little huffily. _

"_Fine, whatever. Just answer me this – what are this Doctor's kisses like?" _

_This time Clara couldn't help but feel her cheeks heat. "I told you-" _

_Liz waved a hand at her. "Yeah, yeah, it's not like that. I remember." _

"_Well, it's not," said Clara stiffly. "And if you only knew how entirely impossible and wrong anything vaguely romantic ever happening between us was, you'd stop talking right now."_

_Liz just smiled and leaned back in her chair again. "Sometimes a kiss from the wrong man at exactly the right moment can turn any story on its head. You take it from me." _

"_I give up," said Clara, rolling her eyes. "You've been a big help." _

"_I know you meant that sarcastically but I'm going to take it at face value," said Liz, unfazed. _

"_You do that." Clara walked over and kissed her on the cheek. "See you on Saturday?" _

"_Unless one of us gets a better offer," agreed Liz, the two friends waving at each other as they parted. _

_Clara glanced at her watch as she hurried out of the cafe, knowing she'd have to move smartly to get to her tube in time. She half-jogged to her station and joined the London crowds jostling for position as they too waited for the train. Clara didn't pay much attention to all the people around her as she stood on the edge of the platform. Her thoughts were lost with the Doctor, wondering what he was doing right then. Clara tried to remember what she thought about before the Doctor came into her life and wasn't quite able to recall. The ground beneath her feet began to rumble as the train hurtled towards them. Clara glanced along the tracks with vague disinterest at the oncoming train. The crowd moved forward in anticipation of climbing on board and that was when Clara felt someone shove her from behind. The force of the shove unbalanced her and she lost her footing, falling forwards onto the tracks. Adrenalin coursed through her body as she realised she wasn't going to be able to stop herself from falling in front of the oncoming train. Suddenly she felt her arm being grabbed in a vice-like grip and she was being pulled back from the danger. Heart still pounding noisily in her chest she looked up into concerned blue eyes. _

"_Are you okay?" asked the blonde man._

"_I-I think so," stammered Clara. _

"_That was a close call," the stranger noted. _

_Clara looked at the train as it now pulled up beside them and put a shaky hand to her face. "Yes, I guess it was." Of all the near death experiences she'd recently faced, how ridiculous would it have been if she'd been finished off by London public transport? She looked up at the man, eyes still wide. "Thank you, ahh-" _

"_Rhomeo," offered up the do-gooder quickly. "Rhomeo Dysseys." _

"_Oh," said Clara, "okay then." _

**oooOOOOooo**

"Don't look at me like that," said the Doctor indignantly as he struggled with the controls of the TARDIS to make the short jump into town. "I know what I'm doing." He made a face. "Probably know what I'm doing." The TARDIS continuing hum sounded a little judgemental to the Doctor. "I'm just going to pop in on Clara, make sure she's okay, run a scan or two and then I'll be back." The centre column ground to a halt, signalling they'd reached their destination. "What could possibly go wrong?" asked the Doctor with overt optimism. The TARDIS's silence was deafening. "Oh shut up," snapped the Doctor moodily. "What do you know?" He strode up to the doors of the TARDIS, took a brief moment to straighten his bow tie and then was making his way out into the streets of inner London.

The Doctor to the rescue.

He was good at this.

This was his thing.

**A/N****: I've got a fair portion of the next chapter done and I'm going to try and get it posted tomorrow if I can. I promise you, it's all going to start going down in the next chapter. Stay tuned. ;) **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N****: Hello all, thank for continuing to hang in there with this story. **

**I must admit the last chapter and parts of this chapter don't feel particularly 'Whovian' to me with all the emotional internal aspects of it but I guess that's the point of fan fiction, to investigate areas that the show doesn't. I am wary of this story becoming an overt romance novel kinda story, because again, while Doctor Who is all about relationships, to have him in a simple romantic relationship considering he's a 900 year old alien would go against the ethos of the source material. So, I'm just trying to supply the emotion without this turning into a full blown romance novel but still have it satisfy to a degree on that level. **

**How was all of that... as clear as mud? Yeah, I thought so. **

**Anyways, let's get on with the chapter which is quite a long one and let's see what you make of it, eh? :)**

**Chapter FOUR**

"All right, you caught me. I'm secretly obsessed with you and spend all my free time writing about you in my journal. 'Dear Diary, today Will was an ass for the 467th day in a row. He's so dreamy."  
_Elizabeth Scott_

_Perfect You_

"I'm really glad you rang me."

Clara smiled. "I'm really glad I rang you too." She'd waited all day for the Doctor to turn up. All day with Liz's words rattling around in her head and then she'd just rung her saviour from the tube station yesterday on impulse. He'd been very solicitous and kind after her brush with death and before they'd parted he'd given her his card, telling her to call if she ever wanted to catch a bite to eat. Clara had smiled politely and taken the card, not having had any intention of doing anything more about it

Rhomeo smiled, dimpling his tanned cheeks. "I didn't think you would, but I couldn't help but hope."

"Yeah, well, you did save my life," she said teasingly. "I thought the least I could do was let you buy me dinner."

"Oh wait, I thought you were taking me to dinner," he joked. "Guess that's what I get for not reading the fine print."

Clara laughed at his humour. "I guess it is." She looked around the restaurant. "This is really nice. I've never been here before."

"The food is great and there is a nice atmosphere," agreed Rhomeo. "It's a good place to get to know someone."

Clara half-smiled. "Do you take all your first dates here?"

"I don't date that much," he confessed.

"Really, even with a name like Rhomeo?"

Rhomeo grimaced. "Yeah, it's a lot to live up to but honestly, I have so little free time off from the hospital, I don't want to waste it with an endless parade of meaningless flings." He gave her a warm look. "I much prefer quality over quantity."

Clara bit her lip and looked away, unable to help being a little flattered by Rhomeo's obvious interest in her. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

"Just the ones I save from certain death," he teased her.

"I guess seeing as you're a doctor, there must be a few of us."

"A few, but none of them could look as amazing as you do in that dress." Rhomeo's gaze was full of appreciation. "You're utterly breath-taking, Clara. I feel like I'm the luckiest man in the world right now."

Clara put a self-conscious hand to her hair. "You don't have to say that."

"I've done nothing but want to say that the first moment I saw you tonight," he said, sounding very sincere.

"Wow," said Clara a little unevenly, "you sure know how to work the charm thing, don't you?"

Rhomeo's gave a little shrug. "I just like to tell it how it is. I'm not a complicated guy, Clara. You should know that about me."

"Wow, uncomplicated," she mused. "It's been awhile." The Doctor was only complications.

"That sounds like there's a story attached," he noted.

"There is but I really don't want to talk about it," said Clara firmly.

"Of course." Rhomeo reached into his suit jacket and drew out a single red rose. "For you."

Clara looked at it in surprise and couldn't help but think of the Doctor's mangled white rose he'd given her earlier. She frowned, annoyed at herself for constantly thinking about the one person she was trying to not think about tonight.

Rhomeo made a regretful face. "Too cheesy?" he asked hesitantly, starting to put the rose back in his jacket. "Sorry."

"No," said Clara quickly and reached for the rich, red flower, taking it from him. "It's the exact right amount of cheese. Thank you, it's beautiful." She placed the flower to her nose and breathed in the luxurious scent before slipping it into her coat.

He relaxed a little, looking relieved. "Great, let's order. I'm starving." Rhomeo picked up the menu and started to peruse it. "The steak here is excellent-"

"You've got to be kidding me," exclaimed Clara in shock as she saw a familiar figure making a beeline for their table.

Rhomeo looked up from his menu. "Or we could always have fish," he said uncertainly.

"Hello there, you two."

The Doctor's cheery voice directly behind Rhomeo had the other man giving a violent start. He twisted around in his chair and looked up. "Um, hello," he replied hesitantly.

"What are you doing here?" asked Clara in disbelief. Her brow wrinkled with a fierce frown. "We're in the middle of dinner."

The Doctor grinned, pulling up a chair and plonking himself down at their table, uninvited. "Ohh," he said happily, "I love dinner. It's my seventh favourite meal of the day." He peered over her shoulder at the menu she was holding. "What's on the menu?"

Rhomeo look was one of consternation. "I'm sorry, but you are who exactly?"

"I'm with Clara," said the Doctor blithely.

"No, you're not," she snapped in annoyance, unable to believe he'd followed her to the restaurant. She took it back, this stalking thing was getting creepy.

"Well, I'm not with Rhomeo here," said the Doctor easily. "We've just met."

Clara glared at him. "You have to go, _now_."

"But I just got here," protested the Doctor, "and we were all just getting to know each other."

"Rhomeo doesn't want to know you," ground out Clara.

The Doctor looked taken aback. "How could he possibly discern such a thing without getting to know me first?"

"So, you two know each other how exactly?" asked Rhomeo, looking between them a little uncertainly.

"He's my computer guy," said Clara quickly, coming up with something resembling the truth. "He came around and fixed my computer one day," she sent the Doctor a vexed look, "and I haven't been able to get rid of him since."

"And oversimplification of the events of our first meeting, but essentially correct," agreed the Doctor easily.

"So, you're Clara's IT support person," said Rhomeo slowly. The poor guy looked like he was struggling to piece all of this together and Clara couldn't exactly blame him. Rhomeo was staring at the Doctor now. "And you're joining us on our date?"

"Thank you," said the Doctor brightly," don't mind if I do. So kind of you to offer."

Clara couldn't believe what she was hearing. "He wasn't offering," she said in annoyance.

The Doctor just gave them both a broad smile. "I think he was, weren't you, Rhomeo?"

"Um, not exactly," came Rhomeo's hesitant reply, "but I guess it would be okay."

The Doctor rubbed his hands together in glee. "Brilliant!"

"No, not brilliant," said Clara forcefully. "You're not staying, Doctor."

"Doctor?" repeated Rhomeo in surprise. "You're a doctor? I thought you worked in IT?"

"I go where I'm needed," said the Doctor sagely.

"And apparently where you're not needed too," said Clara darkly, shooting him death stares.

"Oh," said the Doctor, "you made a little joke. Very funny." He looked at the other man. "Isn't Clara funny, Rhomeo?" He didn't wait for an answer. "You'll have to forgive Clara's rudeness. She's upset with me, even though she's got no reason to be."

"Isn't that my call to make?" asked Clara in annoyance. _Honestly, the gall of this man sometimes. _

The Doctor was intent on talking to Rhomeo. "You see, we have this standing engagement for Wednesdays," he began to explain.

"Which you didn't turn up for," Clara reminded him from behind gritted teeth.

The Doctor kept the smile on his face but he too was talking from behind gritted teeth. "Well, technically it's still Wednesday, so I'm not the one doing the standing up, now am I?"

The whole point of this dinner was to prove to herself that the Doctor hadn't infiltrated every aspect of her life and it was all going pear-shaped. In fact the only thing it was proving was the exact opposite. Clara couldn't let this go on, conscious of the bemused looks Rhomeo was giving both of them. She kept eye contact with the Doctor and pushed her fork off the table. "Oh dear," she said with feigned regret, "I seem to have dropped my fork. Doctor, would you help me look for it?"

"I'm sure you don't need my help," said the Doctor casually. He smiled at Rhomeo. "Women, eh? You never know if you're coming or going with them. Leave me alone, help find my fork. It's no wonder men get all turned around." The Doctor leant his elbows on the table and linked his fingers, resting his chin on them as he looked at the other man with rapt attention. "Now then, Rhomeo, you were telling me how you and Clara met."

"Ah, I don't think I was," said Rhomeo hesitantly.

Clara forced a smile over her gritted teeth, her words sharp and brooking no further discussion. "Doctor, my fork." She grabbed his arm and pulled on it hard, forcing the Doctor to stick his head under the table with her. A bewildered Rhomeo was left sitting alone above the table. Clara's face was flushed with anger. "Stop this!" she hissed in a low voice

"But you're the one who wanted me to help find your fork," protested the Doctor.

"Not that," ground out Clara, "stop harassing my date!"

"I'm not harassing him," said the Doctor heatedly. "I'm just saying hello."

"You've said hello," she growled, "now leave."

The Doctor didn't seem to be on board with that plan. "You don't think there is something odd about the man?"

"Like what?"

"Like, I don't know," the Doctor waggled his head, "like he seems a little too perfect. As though someone created him to be every woman's fantasy."

Clara pressed her lips together in frustration, aware that Rhomeo could most likely hear them. "Being a great guy isn't a crime," she bit out.

"Are we entirely sure he's human?" The Doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out his sonic screwdriver as they still were bent down under the table. "I'll just give him the quick once over-"

"Oh no you don't!" Clara grabbed for the instrument. "Don't you dare sonic screwdriver my date!"

They tussled for control of the device, the Doctor trying to slap her hand away. "Don't touch my screwdriver," he squawked.

"Umm, hello? Is everything alright down there?"

Rhomeo concerned voice came from above the table and Clara popped her head up, a brilliant smile plastered to her lips. "Yes, everything is just fine."

Rhomeo was looking at her a little oddly. "Look, maybe I should just ask the waiter to bring you another fork?"

"No, no," said Clara, her voice a little too high pitched, "don't bother. We've almost found it." She ducked back under the table and glared at the Doctor. "Leave!" she whispered fiercely.

"I'm beginning to think you don't want me to stay." The Doctor looked rather hurt by the notion.

"That's exactly what I want," said hotly.

The Doctor pouted. "But it's Wednesday and I think your so-called date is-."

"Right now, I don't care what you think, Doctor," snapped Clara. He was overwhelming her with his presence. The Doctor was confined to Wednesdays, in his blue box. He wasn't ever meant to leak over into her real life. Clara felt trapped and flustered and didn't know what to do with either of those feelings. "If you don't leave now, I'm going to start screaming and not stop," she threatened him.

"That seems like an overreaction," observed a miffed-looking Doctor. "I'm only trying to help you."

"Well, stop it," ground out Clara.

"Life forms from all over the universe come to me, begging for help," he said indignantly. "You should be honoured I'm fitting you into my busy schedule."

Clara's eyes narrowed. "I'll tell you what you can fit into your busy schedule," she threatened him ominously.

"Alright," relented the Doctor, "I'm sensing you might have the smallest of issues with me being here."

"Wow," said Clara flatly, "you really are a genius."

The Doctor wasn't to be put off. "But something isn't right here, trust me. The timing is deeply suspicious and if there is one thing Time Lords know about, it's timing." He gave a winsome smile. "Well, we're kinda the go to people on all things time adjacent really."

That smile was hard not to get caught up in but Clara did her best. "Doctor," she said, keeping her voice low and steady, "would you please go away."

His green eyes became serious. "But I don't think you're safe, Clara. I can't leave knowing you're not safe."

"That's a chance I'm willing to take," said Clara unevenly. "I need something normal in my life to balance out all the crazy."

"What isn't normal about this?" he protested.

"I've got my head under a table in a restaurant talking to an alien and stopping him from trying to probe my date with a screwdriver," she pointed out sharply. "Where is the normal in that?"

Suddenly Rhomeo's concerned face joined them under the table. "He's going to do what to me with a screwdriver?"

Clara blushed and hastily straightened up. "Nothing, the Doctor isn't going to do anything to anyone."

The two men straightened up as well, but now Rhomeo was eyeing the Doctor a little warily.

Clara fixed an overly happy smile to her face. "Goodbye, Doctor."

"But-"

"Goodbye, Doctor."

"I was only-"

"Goodbye," Clara ground out, her expression menacing.

"Well," said a put out looking Doctor, "apparently I'm leaving." He inclined his head toward Rhomeo. "A pleasure to meet you."

"Ah, you too, I think," said Rhomeo a little dazedly.

The Doctor sent one last pointed look at Clara which she steadfastly ignored and then he was turning around and leaving the restaurant. Clara blew out the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

"Interesting man," offered up Rhomeo in the ensuing uncomfortable silence after the Doctor's departure.

"That's one word for him," said a still irritated Clara.

"I don't mean to be rude, but is he on some kind of medication?"

"Not that I know of."

Rhomeo pulled a face. "Do you think perhaps he should be?"

"The Doctor doesn't need medicating," she defended him on reflex. "He just needs to grasp the concept of boundaries."

Rhomeo half-smiled. "I can't blame him, you know. You're the kind of girl men lose their heads over, Clara Oswald."

"The Doctor hasn't lost his head over me," said Clara, a little embarrassed. "He does this kind of thing all the time. He's just a very, um, exuberant person, I guess you could say."

"He seems particularly exuberant over you," noted Rhomeo, eyeing her intently.

"He's excitable by nature," said Clara, moving a little uncomfortably in his chair. "He once spent an hour telling me why dental floss was the most brilliant of all human inventions and would ultimately help usher in the First Great and Bountiful Human Empire." She couldn't help but smile at little as she remembered the Doctor's animated lecture to her on the subject. When he was like that, there was a child-like innocence to him which belied the darker experiences Clara knew he must have had. How could anyone continue to be so full of wonder after having lived centuries, Clara couldn't quite comprehend but it was altogether magical. She grimaced internally, feeling suddenly guilty about how she'd just treated him. The Doctor really did believe she was in some kind of danger and was only trying to help, even if he was wrong. Clara gave Rhomeo an apologetic look. "I should really go and check on him, make sure he's alright."

"No problem," said Rhomeo accommodatingly. "I'll wait until you get back to order."

"No, don't do that. I'll have whatever you're having."

"Are you sure?" he asked as Clara stood up and collected her coat.

She gave a short nod of her head along with a grateful smile. "I'm sure. I'll be right back, promise."

Rhomeo gave her a big smile. "I'll be waiting."

**oooOOOOooo**

The Doctor paced up and down in front of the restaurant, long legs covering the distance quickly before abruptly turning around again and repeating the process. There was an outside chance he'd made a bit of a mess of that. He wasn't exactly sure why Clara was so angry with him and why she was being so unbearably stubborn about the whole thing. He just knew he had to figure out some way of working out what was going on before any harm could come to Clara. The Doctor abruptly stopped his pacing as the source of his vexation walked out of the restaurant and headed over towards him. "Clara!" he exclaimed in delight and immediately started to stride towards her. "I knew you'd see reason. No need to apologise, we'll just call it water under the bridge." The Doctor came to stand in front of her, a big grin on his face as he breathed a sigh of relief. He still didn't know who or what this Rhomeo character was, but at least with Clara by his side, nothing could hurt her.

"You're unbelievable," said Clara in annoyance.

"Why thank you," smiled the Doctor, "thank you very much."

"Not in a good way," said Clara dourly.

"Look, you'll thank me for this once I work out what is going on," said the Doctor blithely. He took her arm. "Come on, let's get into the TARDIS and out of the cold."

Clara shook his hand off and glared up at him. "I'm not going anywhere but back into the restaurant, Doctor."

The Doctor made a surprised face. "But I thought you were coming with me."

"I just came out here to give you a chance to explain yourself." She sent him a challenging look. "Well, what was tonight all about? You've been carrying on like an idiot."

The Doctor scowled. "No, I haven't."

Clara's expression told him she didn't agree. "I'm waiting for my explanation."

The Doctor cleared his throat and prepared to present his case. "I checked up on Rhomeo Dysseys and you know what I found out about him?"

Clara folded her arms in front of herself. "What?"

"Nothing," said the Doctor triumphantly.

Clara was looking decidedly unimpressed at the revelation.

"Don't you see?" the Doctor urged her. "The man is completely and utterly normal. He is strangely perfect in every way. Not a foot wrong, not a hair out of place."

"That's not a crime, Doctor," said Clara in exasperation.

"No, but it could be a trap," he countered.

"A trap, what kind of trap?" she asked impatiently. "A gorgeous, funny and smart man buys me dinner and tells me I'm beautiful and suddenly it's all part of some nefarious plan?"

"He told you you're beautiful?" asked the Doctor in surprise.

"What's wrong with that?" she snapped.

The Doctor pointed to his nose and then hers. "What, even your nose?"

"Yes, even my nose," she bit out.

The Doctor's expression became serious. "Interesting." He wasn't doing a very good job of explaining to Clara why she should be wary of this man. It was just an instinct so it was hard to put into words. The little hairs on the back of his neck lifted in the other man's presence, telling the Doctor all was not all as it seemed. He wasn't entirely sure why Clara was so set on not taking his word on things of this matter, seeing as he had considerable experience in the generally unnatural.

"Women like that kind of thing," said Clara shortly.

"Oh, I don't believe that for a moment," said the Doctor blithely.

Clara look was one of annoyance. "Alright then, why don't you tell me what women want, seeing as you're the expert and all?"

The Doctor wracked his brains now that Clara had put him on the spot like this. He didn't even know why they were talking about this. He was trying to rescue her from imminent danger. Why couldn't she just have the good sense to follow his lead? "Decorative spoons? Linoleum?" He clicked his fingers. "Banjos!"

Clara looked at him in disbelief. "Banjos?"

"You can't play a sad song on a banjo," explained the Doctor. "What women wouldn't love that?"

She made an impatient noise and jabbed him in the chest. "_You_ are not my boyfriend. You don't get to dictate who I do and don't spend my time with."

"I'm not doing that," the Doctor protested. "I just think there is something terribly wrong with this man, this Rhomeo with the silent H." He leaned in closer, bending down to put his face level with hers. "Doesn't that silent H bother you?"

"You know what's bothering me right now?" bit out Clara.

"Global warming?" offered up the Doctor hopefully.

"You! You're bothering me. You're making a nuisance of yourself."

"I'm being a concerned friend," huffed the Doctor. "How can that be a nuisance?"

Clara made a sound of frustration and threw up one hand. She looked away from him and seemed to be trying to be trying to calm herself down. Suddenly Clara was back looking at him, an unexpected wariness in her eyes. "Doctor, are you-you're not jealous, are you?" she asked hesitantly. Clara didn't look to know what to make of such a thing.

"Why does everyone keep on using that word?" he asked in agitation. "I'm a Time Lord, we don't get jealous. Even the very idea is laughable." For good measure the Doctor demonstrated his point. "Ha!"

Clara's lips thinned. "Then what do you want from me?" she asked emotionally. "What is this?"

"This, this is, this is-" The Doctor trailed off, flustered at being reminded he really didn't have the first clue about anything when it came to Clara. The Doctor didn't know why Clara was the one who was meant to be travelling with him, only that she was. He didn't know why he couldn't save her those other times, only that he was driven to do everything in his power to make sure that this Clara didn't meet the same fate as the others. She was under his protection and so far he'd failed both of the other Clara's. He couldn't fail this one too. But how could he explain something that was an instinct rather than a conscious choice to the confused looking girl standing in front of him? The very nature of instincts was that they defied explanation. It was something built into you, on a cellular level and that's how it was with Clara. It was as though she'd wrapped herself around his DNA strands, worming her way into his infinitely more complex genetic material and causing a compulsion in him. Clara had sneaked her way into his system like a virus, a virus with big brown eyes and soft skin. How could he possibly say anything like that to her when the Doctor knew it would scare her? And he knew it would scare Clara because the notion completely terrified him. Paralysed him, truth be told.

"Sometimes I see you looking at me like I'm-I'm an exhibit at the zoo, like I'm something you're trying to work out, to dissect." Clara was looking at him anxiously. "I just don't know what you want from me, Doctor."

"I just want to keep you safe," said the Doctor unevenly.

"And what makes you think I'm not safe?" Clara asked in frustration.

"Experience," responded the Doctor without thinking. He hated it when Clara made him do that, not think. It was almost as maddening as when she made him do nothing but think.

Clara threw up a hand. "And what does that mean?" Her lips thinned. "Is this because I remind you of that other girl, the one who died?"

The Doctor swallowed hard at the painful memory of watching Clara slip away from him that Christmas morning.

Clara must have been able to see her answer on his face. "I told you," she said emotionally, "I don't want to be some ghost you're intent on carrying around. I'm real, flesh and blood and if you want me-"

"I do want you," interrupted the Doctor hastily and then realised how that must sound when Clara looked suddenly shocked. "I mean, I want you to travel with me, as you, no one else, Clara."

"That's fine, but you have to let me make my own decisions," she said determinedly. "Just because we travel together doesn't mean you get to be the boss of me."

"But I'm so clearly the better person to call all the shots," protested the Doctor, not understanding her reasoning at all. "I just think you should bow to my superior judgement in these matters and my superior judgement is telling me that this Rhomeo character is hinky."

"Hinky?" repeated Clara impatiently. "That's not even a word."

"If it wasn't a word, how could we say it?" countered the Doctor. "Do think before you make these irrational declarations, Clara."

She made a noise of frustration at his reasoning. "I'm done here. I'm going to go back into that restaurant and try and salvage what is left of my evening." Clara turned to leave but then swung back around again. "And just in case you're interested," she huffed, pulling out a red rose from the jacket she had over her arm, "_this_ is the kind of rose you give a person." Clara waved the perfect bud around in front of him. "Not one that looks like it's been trampled by a herd of eleph-ohh!" She gave a little gasp of pain and looked down at her finger where a spot of bright red blood was appearing on the tip where she'd inadvertently punctured the skin with one of the roses' thorns. Clara stuck her finger in her mouth, sucking on the small wound. "Ouch," she muttered.

The Doctor took a quick step forward, reaching out a concerned hand towards her. "Clara, are you alright?"

She took her finger out of her mouth and looked up at him in mild frustration. "Of course I'm alright, it's just a little thor-" Clara didn't get to finish her sentence as she suddenly collapsed, toppling to the ground as though she was a rag doll.

The Doctor moved quickly to catch her before she hit the ground. "Clara," he said anxiously, shaking the unmoving woman in his arms a little, "Clara!" When she didn't respond, the Doctor shoved his hand in his coat pocket, quickly hunting out his sonic screwdriver. He ran the glowing device over Clara's body, desperate to find out what had just happened. The screwdriver lit up with information and the Doctor's eyes went wide as he read all the data. "Oh no," he breathed, "this isn't good, this isn't good at all." He looked down at the woman in his arms, not knowing if she could hear him but needing to reassure her anyway. "It's alright, Clara," he pressed his lips to her forehead, holding her tight. "I'm here and I'm going to fix this, alright? Everything is going to be alright, I promise you." Suddenly there was a sharp pain in the Doctor's neck. He started, a hand snapping up to cover the minor assault but then a wave of blackness hit him and that was all he would know for quite a long time as he slipped into unconsciousness...

**A/N****: And oh yeah, I'm a bit of a cliff hanger fiend – I forgot to mention that. LOL **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N****: Hello all. :)**

**First of all, thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review, fave and follow this story. It's really heartening seeing as this is my first DW story I've put out there and knowing how hardcore we Whovians tend to be. LOL You really don't want to mess up a DW fic if you can help it. . **

**Well, I've just watched the series 7 finale of DW and was pleasantly surprised that I'm not going to have to change any plans I have for this story after the clever reveal of who Clara Oswald is... or rather what she is. In fact, it fits rather nicely into what I've already mapped out for this story... so cheers for that SM. :D Nice doing business with you, mate. ;) **

**I'll be curious to see what you make of this chapter. You never know if these things are going to work until you release them out into the wilderness. **

**Okay, so, with the strains of 'Born Free' ringing in the background, I'll just shut up and let you read. Hope you enjoy. :D**

**Chapter FIVE**

"If life was a dream, then dying must be the moment when you woke up. It was so simple it must be true. You died, the dream was over, you woke up. That's what people meant when they talked about going to heaven. It was like waking up."  
~Ian McEwan

_The Daydreamer_

It was the sound of women talking which first worked its way into Clara's subconscious.

"_So I told him, I'm not your mum, you pick up after yourself..." _

Clara grimaced, feeling as though she was caught in the treacly blackness all around her, fighting her way to be clear of it.

"_They're all the same, I tell you..." _

"_Don't I know it..." _

She clung to the sound of the women's voices, using them to pull herself clear of the endless black of her surrounds.

"_I swear, it's enough to make you re-think men altogether..." _

Clara's eyes fluttered and fragments of light hit seeped in, lighting the darkness. The women's voices were fading but Clara could see the light now, she didn't need them anymore. Using every bit of strength in her, Clara forced her eyes open. Pain ricocheted through her, eyes not used to having to deal with so much light all at once. Clara's eyes watered and she was forced to blink the salty water away so she could focus. The first thing she saw was the overhead lighting fixture and a small moth banging up against the lamp shade, disorientated by the false light. Clara frowned, trying to work out where she was and realising she was in bed but it wasn't her bed. She turned her head and surveyed the small room she was in. Clara immediately recognised her pictures scattered about, her favourite red scarf hanging over the back of the single, utilitarian looking chair in the room. There was a vase of fresh cut flowers on the table by her bed. Peonies, her favourite. The room had so many of her things in it but it still wasn't a room she recognised. Clara struggled to remember what had happened. Slowly memories filtered back to her. It was Wednesday, she and the Doctor had gotten into a fight and then, and then... nothing.

Clara felt a surge of panic run through her. "Doctor," she tried to call out but instead all that she managed was a weak-sounding croak. Clara cleared her throat, wondering why it was so dry. With a shaking hand she threw off the covers, determined to find the Doctor for herself. Clara noticed she was wearing her favourite pair of pyjamas as she swung her legs to the side of the bed and went to stand up. Her legs, however, refused to co-operate with this routine task. She tumbled to the floor, muscles unwilling or unable to help her break her fall. She hit the ground hard, knocking over the bedside table and sending the vase of flowers crashing noisily to the floor. Clara laid on the floor, breathing hard, covered in water and broken ceramic. She was unable to understand why her legs didn't work and was completely terrified. The door to her unfamiliar room burst open and there was a woman with platinum blonde hair who looked to be around Clara's age standing there. She was wearing some kind of pale blue uniform.

The woman's eyes went wide as she saw Clara lying on the floor. "Oh," she gasped, "oh."

"The Doctor," called out Clara weakly, her heart thumping painfully in her chest. "I want the Doctor." It was all Clara could think of. The Doctor would fix all of this, he'd explain and make everything better. "Please," pleaded Clara, her voice wobbling over the single word.

"Oh," said the woman one last time and then seemed to snap out of it. "Don't move," she said quickly. "I'll get the doctor."

She immediately disappeared and Clara gave a grateful sob, dropping her head to the floor. It was going to be alright, the Doctor wasn't far away. Clara knew it. She could hear a commotion in the hallway and then the woman was back, this time with a dark-haired, Indian looking man in tow. They both hurried over to her and helped her back into bed.

"Beth, do you have something to clean this up with?" asked the man as quickly started checking Clara for any cuts.

"I'll be right back," she said and disappeared, only to return a minute later with a brush and dustpan. The woman named Beth made short work of the broken vase and mopped up the water. "There you go," she said in satisfaction. "No harm done. We'll just find another vase for your flowers."

"You haven't cut yourself," announced the man, looking relieved. "That's good."

Clara ignored him. "You said you were getting the Doctor," she reminded the other woman.

"I did." Beth nodded at the man. "He's right there."

The good looking man smiled warmly at her. "Hello, Clara. My name is Dr Vikram Gupta. I've been your doctor since you arrived."

Clara couldn't stop staring at him, shaking her head. "No, no, you're not the Doctor. I want the Doctor." She grabbed at the nearby nurses arm. "Please, where is the Doctor?"

Beth, who Clara now realised was wearing a nurse's uniform, smiled. "Oh, you want _your_ doctor, you mean?"

Clara's head bobbed up and down. "Please, yes. Where is he?"

"He just left," Beth told her and smiled. "I tell you, he's a devoted fellow that one. He's been in here every day since the accident. Practically part of the furniture round here nowadays. All this time and he kept turning up every day, rain, hail or shine. That's a good one you've got yourself there, luv," she added on knowingly.

Clara's heart gave a little glad jump to know the Doctor had been watching over her but then the rest of the woman's words sunk in. "Accident?" she repeated. "I've been in an accident?" Clara looked between the doctor and nurse uncertainly. "When... how-how long have I been here?"

The doctor sent Beth a vaguely censuring look before turning his attention back to Clara. "Clara, we don't want to bombard you with too much information at once. It's best that you let your memory come back to you naturally."

Clara's jaw set into a stubborn line. "I want to know how long I've been here."

Dr Gupta hesitated briefly, but then he answered her, voice quiet and calm. "It's just a few days away from being six months, Clara."

"Six-six months?" gasped Clara, unable to comprehend what she was hearing. That couldn't be possible. She'd just been arguing with the Doctor. There was no way that was six months ago.

"I know it's a lot to take in," said Dr Gupta sympathetically. "You've suffered a huge brain episode and it's going to take awhile for you to feel like your old self again."

"What happened to me?" Clara asked dully, still not really believing any of this.

The doctor scratched his cheek and looked unhappy. "The truth is Clara, we simply don't know. You're somewhat of a medical mystery, well, an impossibility really."

"I'm impossible?" repeated Clara, something stirring deep inside of her, whispering a memory to her but she couldn't quite make it out.

"You presented at the A&E in a vegetative state," explained Dr Gupta. "Every test known to man was run on you and we couldn't find anything wrong with you except that we couldn't wake you up."

"I-I was in a coma?" asked Clara unsteadily.

He shook his head. "It wasn't a coma. Frankly, we don't know what it was and we still don't. After everything possible had been done for you and there was no other recourse, you were brought here."

Clara blinked and looked around her. "Where is here?"

"The Aldrich Respite and Disability Institute of Services." He pulled a face and laughed. "Bit of a mouthful, I know. You've been taken very good care of while many people tried to figure out exactly what was wrong with you."

Clara leaned back against the bed head and put an unsteady hand to her face. Could what this man was saying be true? It was so hard to comprehend. How could she have possibly been asleep for six months?

The sound of running feet outside in the corridor had the nurse winking at her. "Sounds like your doctor is pretty keen to see for himself you're awake."

All the confusion left Clara for a moment, a big grin splitting her face. As soon as she saw the Doctor and heard him say her name, Clara knew she was going to be alright. They'd figure out what happened to her together. She was going to take his hand in hers and squeeze it tight and not let go of it for a long time. Clara's expectant gaze moved to the doorway as the running steps abruptly stopped, as though the Doctor was collecting himself briefly before entering the room. There was a brief knock on the door and then it was opening. Clara drew in an unsteady breath, her grin widening. That same grin froze on her face when the blonde-haired man walked through the door.

He immediately walked over to the bed, his pleasure obvious on his face. "Clara," he said excitedly, "I can't believe this, you're awake."

"Rhomeo," breathed Clara, just staring at him, "wh-what are you doing here?" _And where was the Doctor? _

He looked a little uncertain. "Umm, Romeo?"

"It's your name," said Clara and then saw how everyone in the room was looking at her. Her tone became less certain. "Isn't it?"

"It's Alex, actually." Rhomeo, or rather Alex it appeared, gave a lop-sided smile. "Do you remember me?"

Clara's head was spinning. "We had dinner together," she said unevenly. "After you saved me from falling in front of that train."

Alex looked relieved as he moved closer and took a seat on the bed. "That's right," he said eagerly. "I knew you'd remember."

"But then the Doctor interrupted us," Clara reminded him. She looked around at everyone. "Where is the Doctor? You said he was coming."

The nurse looked confused. "This is your doctor, honey." She inclined her head. "Dr Alex Whitley. He's barely left your side all of this time."

Clara shook her head, brain refusing to accept any of this. "No, you're Rhomeo Dysseys. I don't know why you're saying you're not."

Alex took her hand, expression tender. "It's alright, Clara," he said gently. "You're just confused. You've been through a terrible trauma. You've just gotten a little mixed up, that's all."

"But the Doctor," Clara protested. "Where's the Doctor?"

Alex's smiled wavered a little. "Clara, it's me."

"No, no," she said determinedly. "The Doctor, my Doctor – tall, lanky, wears a bowtie and thinks it's cool." Clara looked at Alex, willing him to remember. "I stopped him from probing you with his sonic screwdriver at dinner."

There was an awkward silence and some confused looks exchanged with the others.

Dr Gupta had a tentative suggestion. "Perhaps we should let Clara rest now? A lot has just happened and she seems to be getting a little muddled."

Clara grabbed Alex's arm. "You remember him," she said desperately. "You have to remember the Doctor. I don't know how anyone could ever forget him. He must have been there when the accident happened, I remembered talking to him and-and-" Clara trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.

Alex took her hand in his. "Clara, we had dinner, it was lovely and there were no interruptions. Afterwards, we were walking back to my car and a man tried to mug us. I fought him off, but not before he pushed you to the ground. You didn't seem to be injured but you wouldn't wake up. I took you straight to the nearest hospital but there was nothing they could do. Nobody could explain it. Physically you were fine, you just wouldn't wake up."

"Are you seriously expecting me to believe I've been in a coma or whatever it was for six months?" asked Clara in disbelief. "And nobody knows why? And that no one has ever heard of the Doctor?" She scowled. "There is no way the Doctor would abandon me if he knew I was in trouble, not willingly. He must be in trouble himself." Clara's jaw hardened. "I have to go and find him." She went to move off the bed and everyone quickly moved to stall her.

"You can't," said Dr Gupta hastily, taking her arm.

"You can't stop me, mate," said Clara grimly.

"No," said Dr Gupta, "but the severe muscle wastage you've undergone will. Your muscles haven't been used for so long, Clara, you're not going to be able to be mobile again without some intensive physiotherapy."

Clara wanted to prove them wrong, wanted to jump out of bed and run down the hallway, shouting for the Doctor, the _real_ Doctor but her legs felt like lead weights. Her attempt at just standing had been met with disaster already. "But-but the Doctor," she whispered unhappily, "he needs me. I have to save the Doctor."

Alex's voice was soft and soothing. "Clara, sweetheart, there is no other doctor. Sometimes when people suffer a brain trauma like yours, their memories fragment and they can get all muddled. I was the only doctor at dinner that night. For some reason your psyche seems to have split me up into two people, this doctor person and one called Romeo." There was a gentle teasing light in his eyes. "Just so you know, I'm choosing to be rather flattered by that Romeo reference."

"The Doctor is real," Clara protested unsteadily. "I know he is. He has to be."

"Then who is he, luv?" asked Beth patiently. "Who is the Doctor, what's his name? Doctor who?"

Clara's brow furrowed. "I don't know his name but we travel together, every Wednesday. He picks me up in his blue police box which isn't a police box at all. It's a space ship because the Doctor is a nine hundred year old alien and we go travelling all over the universe through time and space." Clara was a little breathless after saying all that at once.

The nurse's look was compassionate. "Honey, an alien in a blue box?"

"It-it's bigger on the inside than the outside," said Clara weakly.

Beth wrinkled her nose. "Oh Clara, does any of that sound right to you?"

"But it is," Clara insisted but with decidedly less certainty this time.

"Look," said Dr Gupta, breaking in to the conversation, "none of this has to be resolved today, Clara. Don't stress yourself. The important thing is that you're awake now and in time, your memories will most likely right themselves. You have a long road to recovery ahead of you, but it seems to me you've got a lot of people in your corner."

"That's right, luv," agreed Beth quickly. "You've got Alex here, and of course, your Mum and Dad. I rang them before and they were already on the way in, so it won't be long before they're here. They were so happy, they've been worried sick. Your Mum cried when I told her you were awake and talking."

Clara almost flinched, the familiar bittersweet pang in her chest hitting her like it did anytime she thought of her mother. "I'm sorry," she said, voice wavering, "but you've made a mistake." Clara took a deep breath, still finding the words hard to say, even after all of this time. "My Mum, my Mum is-" As Clara was speaking the door to her room was suddenly opened and standing in the doorway was Ellie Oswald, looking as pretty and healthy as Clara could ever remember. The breath left Clara's body in a rush as she stared at her mother, unable to believe what she was seeing. "... here," she finished off faintly, the blood draining from her face all at once...

**A/N****: Hmm, a little mystery here. Any theories on what is going on at all, guys? In the next chapter we'll catch up with the Doctor and see what state he's in. ;) **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N****: Okay, so I can see I confused a lot of you with the last chapter. LOL Hopefully this will shed some light on the situation... or just make it a hundred times worse. . Fingers crossed this chapter makes some kind of sense to you, at least half as much as it does in my head. It's a bit conceptual, but hopefully further chapters will continue to help clarify. **

**Just as a little by the by, I've also started working on a 11/Clara/Strax series of one to two shots. I love the character of Strax and thought he'd make for a fun threesome with 11 and Clara. LOL Keep an eye out for that, won't you? I'll be opening it up for suggestions for folks when it comes to what people would like to see the three of them get up to. ;) **

**Anyways, back to this story. I'm a bit nervous about this chapter, so see what you make of it and I'll get cracking on the next one, okay? :D **

**Chapter SIX**

"It was like when you make a move in chess and just as you take your finger off the piece, you see the mistake you've made, and there's this panic because you don't know yet the scale of disaster you've left yourself open to."

~Kazuo Ishiguro~

_Never Let Me Go_

The Doctor's eyes snapped open as he came abruptly back into consciousness. Two things caught his attention at the same time. One, he was tied to a sturdy, wooden chair and two, there was a familiar smell all around him. Several familiar smells in fact. The room was pitch black so the Doctor couldn't see a thing in front of him but all around him was the unmistakable smell of books, old books. They were all around him and above him, hidden away in the dark but undeniably there. The other smell was harder to identify. It was from an old memory, tucked away but still familiar to him. The Doctor put aside trying to remember the smell as a more pressing matter demanded attention. "Clara," he called out urgently. "Clara!" The Doctor strained his hearing, desperate for some indication his companion might be nearby but no reply returned to him from the darkness. He immediately struggled against his restraints, testing their strength. There was metal around his wrists and the clink of a chain as the Doctor wrestled with his bindings. Mostly likely handcuffs. He needed his sonic screwdriver but the Doctor could tell without looking he no longer had the versatile tool. The pocket he always kept it in felt noticeably bare of anything. He gave up trying to get free, for now. A flutter of air against his cheek had the Doctor tensing. "Who's there?" he demanded to know. "Show yourself."

"It seems the creature is awake, sister," mused a woman's voice.

The Doctor's head snapped around as he detected movement on the other side of him.

"At last," replied another woman from the darkness. "It was taking so long I feared it had been damaged during its capture."

The Doctor tried to peer through the gloom to see the two women, trying to get his bearings. He always found talking was a good way to keep others distracted while he figured out his next move. "I'm the Doctor," he volunteered.

"We know who you are," said the first voice dismissively.

"We know what you are," chimed in the second voice.

"Introductions are a two way street," he reminded them. "Who exactly do I have the pleasure of being abducted by?"

There was the sound of walking and then a light was suddenly turned on. The Doctor was forced to blink madly against the sudden intrusion of light. He quickly managed to focus, glancing around him. Just as he'd suspected, the Doctor found he was surrounded by books, shelf-loads of them, reaching to the ceiling. Nearby tables were piled up with more books of every description, groaning under their weight. Even more books were stacked up on the floor into precariously leaning towers. By anyone's standards, there were a lot of books. The Doctor turned his attention to the two women standing over by the door, one with her hand on the light switch. As it turned out, his abductors looked for all the world like two sweet little old ladies, one with purple-rinsed hair and one with blue. They were short and rounded, covered in cardigans and flannel skirts and looked like your typical granny.

The Doctor, however, had learnt long ago not to judge a book by its cover. He fixed a bright smile to his lips. "Well, hello there," he said cheerily. "I suppose a cup of tea is out of the question? Maybe some bikkies?" The Doctor sighed dramatically. "I love a good biscuit."

"You have no further need of food," the purple-haired granny assured him.

"I'm sorry," said the Doctor, "but I didn't catch your name."

"You can call me Miss Pearl." The purpled-haired granny inclined her head. "And this is my sister, Miss Agnes."

The Doctor kept his smile. "Charmed, I'm sure." He cocked his head and looked them over intently. "Let me guess, you're not from around here?" There was something decidedly unhuman about the two women, something in the way they moved. The Doctor wasn't fooled by the skin they'd chosen to walk around in.

Miss Agnes gave a cold little smile which was at odds with her sweet, granny-like face. "We have been here a very long time, creature. Longer than you could imagine."

"Oh, I don't know," said the Doctor breezily, "I've got quite the imagination. I might surprise you. And it doesn't really matter how long you've been here, Earth still isn't your original home, now is it? It's like I always say, you can spend years in a shoe box but that still doesn't make you a shoe."

Miss Pearl made an impatient noise. "Why are we conversing with it? We never converse with the vessels."

"But this one is special, sister," tutted Miss Agnes. "At least, that is the story this creature tells itself." She walked over to the Doctor, rubber soled orthopaedic shoes squeaking ever so quietly on the linoleum. Miss Agnes peered down at the Doctor with interest. "Besides, this creature is the only one on this spinning ball of rock and mud who could possibly understand the honour about to be bestowed on them."

The Doctor had a sinking feeling he and Miss Agnes weren't going to agree on what constituted an honour but he was happy to keep the woman talking. Talking bought him time and more importantly, information. There was a piece of information the Doctor was currently craving, one word burning itself into his brain. _Clara. Clara. Clara._ Where was she? What had they done to her? The Doctor wanted to scream the questions at these things but he held his tongue for now. They obviously had plans for him and the Doctor didn't want to give them more leverage with revealing his need to protect Clara. They'd clearly used his relationship with Clara to set a trap for him and the Doctor had blindly fallen into it, most likely taking Clara down with him. The thought frustrated him. He was supposed to be getting better at protecting those under his care, not worse. That was what loss was meant to grant you, wasn't it? Foresight? Only when it came to Clara the Doctor felt as though he couldn't see what was right in front of him and never had. She blinded him, leaving him defenceless.

"My sister and I are from Norgathi, you've heard of it, yes?"

The Doctor's mind ticked away furiously. "Yes, of course. Norgathi is a world dedicated to the collecting and storage of knowledge. It's basically a library planet, the biggest and most extensive in all of the Epsilon Deltiri System." He frowned.

Miss Agnes gave a self-important smile. "My sister and I, we are from the clan of the Gordane, keepers of the knowledge, gatherers of the stories."

The Doctor looked between the two women. They must have been using some kind of camouflaging, genetic altering device because he knew Gordanians didn't look anything like humans. More rodent-like, if anything. "You two are a long way from home. Are you stranded here on Earth?" He brightened. "Do you need a lift home because if you do-"

"Home?" sneered Miss Pearl, finally joining in on their conversation. "Why would we want to return there when this planet offers us so very much to feast on?"

"Feast on?" repeated the Doctor uncertainly.

Miss Pearl joined her sister, both of them standing over the Doctor. Her expression hardened with an evil glee. "My sister and I discovered there was more to knowledge than just words."

"It was the stories, you see," added in Miss Agnes. "The stories, all those delicious tales and the way they wove themselves into the creatures who received them."

"We are the stories we tell ourselves," agreed Miss Pearl. "They are the energy within us that fuels us, that makes us who we are. They form us, shape and propel us into our surrounds."

"The more stories a person has to tell, the more energy they have to give." Miss Agnes gave a cruel smile. "The more energy they have to take with which to sustain ourselves."

The Doctor had heard whispers of such things, the corruption of the noble pursuit of knowledge but had never known if it was true or not. There were stories of a sect breaking away from the Gordane, a group who had learned of a way to corrupt the knowledge they were supposed to be safe-keeping. The sect had supposedly discovered a way to suck every story, every thought and emotion those stories garnered from a being and absorb it into their own systems, causing a form of regeneration. The Doctor had been there when the High Council had discussed these rumours but had dismissed them as such. Regeneration was the domain of the Time Lords, none others. It seemed like the High Council had been mistaken, not for the first time.

"This planet groans with its stories," continued on Miss Agnes gleefully. "The stories passed down generation to generation, feeding the masses, making them fat for the harvesting."

"The missing people," whispered the Doctor, remembering Angie's stories from the news reports and then grew angry. "You've been taking people and draining them of their stories, stealing their lives."

"As it has always been," said Miss Pearl unrepentantly.

"And it will always be," Miss Agnes agreed easily. "We have walked amongst these creatures for so long, thousands of years, watching them scare themselves with their stories, make themselves laugh, cry – so much deliciousness to be fed upon." She looked at the other woman knowingly. "Sister."

Miss Pearl gave her a knowing look and scurried off to the other side of the room to a wall which was the only one clear of books. She pressed on a panel and the wall slid away, revealing a brightly lit room. All around the back wall were tubes of glass with people standing inside of them with white gas wafting around them. Clear glass pipes ran from the tops of the tubes and joined together into another larger glass chamber, currently empty of any occupants. It was the gas he'd been smelling earlier the Doctor realised. Xeon, a gas once used for suspended animation on some planets but it didn't smell quite right, as though the substance had been altered somehow. As each tubes surrounding the large glass chamber were lit up in turn, it became obvious the people contained within them were all dead, dried up and desiccated-looking in their glass cages. The Doctor felt a surge of anger at the deaths of so many innocents but his fury was replaced with fear as the last tube was illuminated. "No!" he said painfully, unable to take his eyes off the sight of Clara in the glass tube, gases swirling all around her. She at least looked unhurt, eyes closed as she stood there, apparently unconscious. The gas clearly hadn't yet had the time to affect her as it had the others. Both of the Doctor's hearts thumped painfully in his chest at the sight of Clara and knowing the fate awaiting her.

The Doctor sent a fierce look over at his captives. "You've got me now," he said heatedly. "You don't need anyone else. I'm a Time Lord, I've lived a long time, longer than anyone else on this planet. I'm all the story you need now, you know that, that's why you hunted me down. Just let the girl go. She has nothing to do with this anymore."

Miss Agnes was looking at her sister. "The creature thinks it is what we wanted," she said in amusement. "How curious."

"Indeed, sister, curious and most conceited but then, I'd expect nothing less from this creature."

A fresh fear coiled in the Doctor's stomach.

Miss Pearl stepped up to him, a self-satisfied look on her face. "You were not what we hunted, creature, you only got in the way of the prize."

"The ultimate prize," gloated Miss Agnes. "The one who will free us from this hunger forever and grant us immortality. The impossible one who will feed us for all of eternity."

The Doctor's stricken gaze slowly swung back to the row of glass coffins and the last one to be lit up. "Clara," he breathed her name painfully, full of fear as the true state of the situation revealed itself to him at last. They wanted his impossible girl for themselves, to feed off her mysteries and leave her as nothing but a dried out husk. The Doctor's jaw hardened.

Over his dead body...


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N****: Thank you again to everyone who has read and supported this fic with reviews, faves and follows. :D **

**Whenever you start writing in a new fandom you always have to get a feel for your audience. I find all of my fandom audiences are unique, which is really interesting to me, because you're all very varied as well. I have different experiences with different audiences so it always keeps it fresh for me. **

**This fic is a little bit conceptual, so I hope it will continue to make sense to you all as we pop around between flash backs (always in italics), Clara's reality and then to the Doctor's. I try to write as clearly as I can to set up these kinds of multiple and parallel scenes. Like I said, I hope I do well enough not to confuse the heck out of you all. LOL **

**And for those who might end up finding this fic a little heavy going as we get more into it, I have started another light-hearted, fluff filled one called 'Strax's Big Day Out'. It's going to be just a lot of silliness and comedic moments and maybe just a little bit of flirty fun between Clara and 11... within the constraints of the accepted Whovian universe, of course. ;) I enjoy the challenge of being able to find creative ways to give 11/Clara these little 'moments' without turning them into a traditional, human couple... because they're not... because one of them is a 900 year old alien. ;) **

**Anyways, check it out if you're interested and have nothing better to do. In the meantime, here's the next chapter of this particular tale...**

**Chapter SEVEN**

_Clara hurried along the London streets, conscious she was going to be late for her lunch date with Liz. She glanced at her watch to confirm the awful truth and when she looked up, it wasn't in time to avoid colliding with a little old woman with purple-rinse hair who'd just stepped out of a shop. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" Clara exclaimed as she knocked the packages from the woman's arms. She bent down to quickly collect them. "Let me get those for you." _

"_Someone's in a big hurry," noted the little old woman as she watched Clara pick up the packages. _

_Clara looked up at her apologetically. "I'm late." _

"_For a very important date?" the woman teased her. _

_Clara laughed as she straightened up and handed the packages back to the woman. "You could say that. I'm sure my friend thinks it's important, particularly if I keep her waiting." She wrinkled her nose. "I'm so sorry about that." _

"_No harm done," said the elderly woman with the strangely intense eyes. She was gazing at Clara with great interest. "My, what big, beautiful eyes you have, dear," said the little woman admiringly. "The things you must have seen with those eyes." _

_Clara gave an uncomfortable laugh this time. If only she knew. "Ah, yes, I guess but I'm sure you have more stories to tell than I do." _

"_Oh, you don't know the half of it, my dear." The woman gave a little cackle then which made Clara a somewhat nervous. _

_She forced a polite smile to her lips. "Well, if you're alright, I really do have to be getting on." _

"_Run along, dear," said the woman easily. "Don't let me keep you. I'm sure you've got more fun things to do then talk to an old woman." _

_Clara didn't know what to say to that so she just kept the smile on her face and continued on hurrying down the street. She arrived, as she'd feared, late for her lunch date. _

"_You're late," announced Liz, her look one of censure. _

"_Couldn't be helped," said Clara breezily as she took the menu the waiter offered her. "Think a lot of it, I knocked down an old woman to get here as it is." _

_Liz gave a theatrical shudder. "Ug, old people." _

"_What's wrong with old people?" asked Clara in amusement at the over the top reaction from her friend._

"_They're so, so old and wrinkly." Liz screwed up her face. "They give me the creeps." _

"_This one was a little... odd," conceded Clara, remembering the strange way the woman had looked at her, "but being old isn't a crime." _

"_It should be," said Liz without hesitation. _

_Clara's lips twitched. "You do realise you're going to get old one day too." _

"_Never!" vowed Liz. _

_Clara laughed. "And how are you going to manage that?" _

"_I'm going to marry a brilliant scientist who'll figure out how to stop everyone aging and who will keep me young and beautiful forever." _

"_Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," said Clara easily. "Besides, it's what's inside that counts." _

"_You can say that because you're younger than me," said Liz dismissively. _

"_By six weeks," pointed out Clara in amusement. "I think that's what you call splitting hairs."_

"_You mark my words, Clara Oswald," said Liz dramatically as she pointed to her face. "I'm never going to age." _

"_Good luck with that, you'll have to let me know how it turns out," Clara teased her friend. She looked at the menu. "Now, let's eat, I'm starving." _

"_I wasn't the one who was late," pointed out Liz as she perused her menu as well. "I thought you might not be coming, that you might have gotten a better offer." _

"_Yeah, right," scoffed Clara. "Like from who?" _

"_Like from your new fellow, your doctor friend." _

_Clara looked up from her menu. "It's not Wednesday." _

"_You and your Wednesday man," tutted Liz. "It's kinda weird, you know that, right?" _

"_It isn't weird," she protested. Only it was and Liz didn't know the half of it which was probably for the best. "I'm ready to order," said Clara, changing the subject. "How about you?" _

**oooOOOOooo**

"I knew right away this one was special, different to all the others," said Miss Pearl in satisfaction. "I knew we had to have here. Isn't that right, sister?"

Miss Agnes' head bobbed up and down eagerly. "Indeed, sister. As soon as you returned home we released one of the Collectors to pursue her."

"The Collectors?" the Doctor repeated slowly even as his mind went at a mile a minute. "Oh!" he exclaimed as the light finally dawned, "oh, oh! I was being stupid, I knew I was being stupid but I just couldn't work out it out even though I knew it was staring me right in the face." The Doctor looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. "The name, the name, it was always wrong and it was right there for me to see but I didn't." He looked back at the women. "Rhomeo Dysseys, the man with the silent H which made no sense." The Doctor couldn't help but be annoyed with himself for being so thick. "Rhomeo Dysseys is an anagram of Homer's Odyssey. What better name for a collector of stories than arguably one of the best story tellers of this planet?"

Miss Agnes gave a cool smile. "We thought it fitting."

"And we do love our little word games," chimed in Miss Pearl. "It amuses us."

"So, you lured Clara into your trap with this Rhomeo fellow?" said the Doctor indignantly. "What was the plan, he was going to kidnap her and bring her back here, just like all the others?"

"That was the plan," agreed Miss Agnes calmly. "The rose given to the girl contained carbon cuprochloride, a powerful sedative which sends a human into a deep sleep."

The Doctor already knew that, having discovered the compound in Clara's body when he'd used his sonic screwdriver on her just after her collapse. "That is an incredibly dangerous and unstable compound," he ground out. "You could have killed her." The thought was an unacceptable one for the Doctor. Not again.

Miss Pearl shrugged. "It's true, some of our stories have died before being able to be absorbed, but these kinds of losses are to be expected in such feeble creatures."

"They're not stories," said the Doctor, furious that all these people should be reduced to nothing more than a product to be absorbed by these corrupted keepers of words.

Miss Agnes looked perplexed. "It really seems to care about these little humans, sister. How curious."

"And pointless," said Miss Pearl indifferently. She arched an eyebrow. "It seems to think it is the only one allowed to find a use for the creatures of this world and masks that use under the guise of protection." Miss Pearl's expression became a sneer. "Even as it devours them, it condemns us for doing the same."

The Doctor glared at her. "You don't have any idea what you're talking about. This world and that girl _are_ under my protection and I will go to any length to honour that."

Miss Agnes actually laughed. "See," she sneered, "it truly believes the lies it whispers to itself. You are as unaware of the truth of things as those you purport to protect, creature."

Even as he engaged in this battle of words with the Gordanians, the Doctor's mind was working furiously to try and figure a way out of this mess for him and Clara. His gaze crept over to where Clara was still frozen in her glass cage, surrounded by the gas which was slowly stealing the energy from her body. Suddenly his promises of protection rang hollow, even in his own ears, as the Doctor knew he was going to be forced to witness Clara dying before his very eyes yet again if he didn't think of something and fast.

**oooOOOOooo**

"It's been nearly three months since you've woken up now, Clara. I hear this will be your last day of rehabilitation therapy."

Clara brought her attention back from the window she'd been gazing out of at the therapist's office and grinned at the woman. "Yes, finally."

Michelle, her therapist, smiled at her enthusiasm. "You've made exceptional progress. You should be very proud of yourself."

"I'm just glad to be finally going home," Clara admitted.

"And how are you feeling about everything now that you've had some time to process everything?"

Clara wasn't fooled by the seemingly benign question as they sat in the other woman's stylishly decorated office. "You mean, do I still believe there is an alien called the Doctor living in a blue box out there?"

Michelle's tone was unfazed by her cutting to the chase. "You woke up confused about a lot of things, Clara. It was to be expected. There is no judgement here. You were very adamant about your Doctor delusion for a long time."

"Because he seemed so real," said Clara softly, eyes sliding away as she remembered that big smile, those green eyes full of childish delight in his surrounds and that floppy hair he was always pushing out of his face.

"The brain is a complex thing and very clever. It finds all sorts of way to cope with things it doesn't understand at the time," offered up Michelle. Her look was searching. "But you understand now that this was what this Doctor was, now don't you? Just a coping mechanism for your brain as it went through a great trauma."

"Yes, I understand that now." Even as she said the words Clara felt a pang of loss. Was it crazy of her to mourn the loss of someone who never existed? She really didn't want a professional answer to that question. She'd woken from her dreams of flying around the universe to discover the world she thought was real had harboured sadness the actual world didn't. Her mother was alive and so was Artie and Angie's mother. There had been no accident, the children had both of their parents and were happy. They and she weren't learning to live without a mother. "Why do you think I made up a world where my mother was dead?" she asked suddenly. "And Mrs. Maitland? What is wrong with me that I'd do that to myself and helpless children, even in a dream world?" The question had been plaguing Clara ever since she'd woken up and discovered both mothers were alive and well.

"Losing your mother is an obvious fear you held, like most people," said Michelle compassionately. "Your fear caused you to construct the worst case scenario. It was a way of facing your fears and finding a way through them. It was a coping mechanism."

"I remember everything about losing her," said Clara painfully, tears stinging her eyes even though she knew her Mum was at home, getting her room ready even as they spoke. "The shock, the grief, feeling like if I started crying I'd never stop." Her voice shook. "The day when I could no longer smell her perfume in her wardrobe." Clara blinked away tears she'd been unable to prevent, knowing she was crying for something which never happened. Only it had happened, somewhere in her mind she'd mourned her mother. "He was there, you know."

"Who was there, Clara?"

"The Doctor," she said softly. "When my Dad and me were at my mother's gravestone, the Doctor was watching us." Clara frowned a little. "I think he's been watching me my whole life." She realised how that sounded and quickly clarified. "I mean, in the world I lived when I was asleep, not in real life, of course."

"I think everyone wants to believe there is someone looking out for us, Clara," said Michelle compassionately. "The idea of a larger than life figure taking us under their wing and protecting us from things which want to harm us is completely understandable. Most people want to imagine they have their very own superhero keeping an eye on them."

"Except in my case, instead of a cape, I gave him a bowtie," filled in Clara wryly.

Michelle laughed. "Yes, well, it was your psyche. I guess it had its own ideas about what constituted a hero and the appropriate dress code. It's an appealing fantasy which tied in nicely with your desire to travel. You were due to leave for your big travels two days before you had your accident. It was something you'd been dreaming of since you were a little girl, seeing the world. It only makes sense your mind would try and fulfil that longing anyway it could. So, it cleverly provided you with a way of being able to travel not only anywhere, but any time you desired, at a moment's notice, no less."

"So, what you're trying to tell me, is that despite having been in a coma for six months and dreamt up a crazy world full of aliens, Russian submarines and killer robots, I'm actually really normal?" Clara arched an eyebrow. "Is that your professional opinion and if so, can I get it in writing?"

"That's exactly what you're going to get when I put in my final report," replied Michelle in amusement.

Clara was relieved. She needed Michelle to sign off on her release from the Institute. She needed to be home now, in her own room. It was hard to believe it was edging towards a year since she'd slept in her own bed. Even after all of this time, it didn't feel possible.

Michelle glanced at the clock on the wall. "Our session is almost done. Is there anything you want to ask me before you go?"

"No, just to thank you, Michelle, listening to all of my crazy and keeping a straight face must have been hard."

"I've heard crazier."

Clara was sceptical. "Really?"

"Well, maybe not crazier," Michelle conceded. "That's one fertile imagination you have there, Clara."

"So it would seem," said Clara ruefully. The two women said their goodbyes and then Clara was leaving Michelle's office and making the short journey across the garden area to the gymnasium where all the physical therapy was given to the inpatients at the Institute. Clara was half-way across the pleasant garden area when she heard her name being called.

"Clara!"

She turned around to see Alex jogging towards her. Clara smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"Do you think I'd miss your last physical therapy session?" he asked with a grin, coming to stand in front of her.

"You just like getting to gang up with my physio and tell me what to do," Clara teased him.

"For all the good it does us, you still just do what you want." He sighed and shook his head, eyes twinkling. "Stubborn."

"If it's taken you this long to work that out, I'm not sure how you managed to get that degree in Medicine," said Clara cheekily.

Alex leaned down, whispering in a conspiratorial fashion. "I'll let you in on a secret. I found that degree at the bottom of my Wheeties one morning and just went with it."

"A man with a plan," she playfully mocked him. "What woman wouldn't swoon over that?" Clara bit her bottom lip and became more serious. "Alex, I just wanted to thank you for being so supportive of me during this whole ordeal." Clara gave him a slightly odd look. "Why exactly did you hang around with a girl in a coma for six months? A girl you just met and then come and listen to her complain and carry on for three months worth of physical therapy while mental health professionals tried to work out if she was nutjob or just brain damaged?" It was hardly every man's fantasy.

Alex gave her a lop-sided smile. "I knew you'd wake up. You told me you'd be right back and I believed you. You seemed like a girl who always kept her promises."

Clara found his devotion hard to understand. "But you didn't know me, Alex, not really. We'd only met twice."

"And both times you left a big impression on me, Clara Oswald," said Alex huskily. "And I'm a man who likes to keep his promises too. I said I'd be waiting."

"Yeah, you did, didn't you?" agreed Clara slowly. She suddenly felt flustered at the way Alex was looking at her. Turning away before Alex could see her blush, Clara started to walk again. "Come on then if you're coming. I don't want to keep Gary waiting. He makes me do extra laps if I make him wait and if that happens you're doing them with me, mister."

"I don't mind as long we can do them together," said Alex accommodatingly and falling into step with her.

Clara didn't answer him but couldn't help the little smile his words caused her.

**oooOOOOooo**

Doctor tore his concerned gaze from the entombed Clara and sent a hard look at the alien who liked to call herself Miss Agnes. "How long can Clara survive in that gas?"

"For as long as we desire," said Miss Agnes offhandedly. "It is only when we harvest the stories that the suspended animation is broken." She gave an uncaring shrug. "Most do not survive the process and their bodies break down."

"But this one is special, too special for a simple one off harvest," concluded Miss Pearl, eyeing Clara hungrily.

"What are you going to do to her?" asked the Doctor sharply, fearing an even worse fate for Clara than the poor people in the cases next to her.

"Only what you would have done one day, creature," said Miss Pearl simply. Her expression was of great self-satisfaction. "Consume her utterly."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N****: Hi guys, another chapter is up. :)**

**I just want to thank everyone for reading and reviewing this fic. I have no idea how you all even found this story in amongst the wealth of DW fics, but I very much appreciate it. We're at a serious part of the story, so I hope that doesn't get boring for folks. In the next chapter I'm going to be introducing a new element which I'll be interested in seeing what you all make of it. **

**In the mean time though, here is this chapter. Once again, I hope this is all making sense as I build on my original premise. **

**Thanks again for reading, guys, you're all rock stars! :D **

**Chapter EIGHT**

"Everything you can imagine is real."  
_Pablo Picasso_

Clara looked into the full length mirror and saw the bride looking back at her. She drew in an unsteady breath as she nervously ran a hand over her satin skirt which sat below a bodice with a sweetheart neckline adorned with some elegant beading. Her hair was swept back in a loose up do with a tiara nestled within it, to which a veil was attached. Clara barely recognised the young woman looking back at her.

Suddenly her mother's reflection joined her in the mirror. "You look beautiful, Clara," she said, face lit up with pride.

Clara turned around and fought back emotional tears. "I'm so glad you're here, Mum."

"It's your wedding day," her mother tutted, "where else would I be?"

Sometimes, when Clara would first wake up in the morning, she would have forgotten her mother was still alive. Those moments were filled with so much sadness and loss until she remembered it had all been a dream. Knowing her mum as going to be there, watching her walk down the aisle made Clara so unbelievably happy. She smiled the biggest smile. "Do I really look alright?"

"Alex is going to be beside himself when he sees you," said her mum confidently. "There won't be a dry eye in the house. Yours really is a fairytale love story."

"I know," said Clara unevenly. She and Alex had barely been dating six months when he'd asked her to marry him. The next three months had all been a blur of wedding preparations and now, suddenly, the day had arrived.

"He's a good one, that Alex of yours," she said, face softening. "Take it from me, you've got to hold onto those ones and never let go, no matter what."

"I will, Mum," Clara promised softly.

Mother and daughter hugged and then Ellie Oswald was shaking her head and dabbing at her watering eyes. "Oh, I knew I should have worn waterproof mascara. I'll look like a panda in the wedding photos."

Clara gave a little laugh. "You'll look gorgeous, like you always do."

There was a quiet knock on the door. "Everyone decent?"

Clara smiled. "Come on in, Dad."

The door opened and her father walked in. His eyes became suspiciously bright. "Oh, Clara, luv," he breathed, "you look like a princess."

Clara bit her bottom lip and looked down at her dress. "Do you think I'll do?"

Her father was suddenly choked up and he was forced to only nod in response.

"Don't you start," her mum threatened him. "You'll have me going again."

"I'm sorry, my love," said her dad, smiling through his tears, "but how clever are we to make something so beautiful."

Clara watched her parents exchange loving looks and then steal a quick kiss.

"Very," whispered her mother as they shared a little moment.

Clara remembered those moments all throughout her childhood, the way her parents would look at each other like they were the only two people in the world. It made her feel so safe and happy to see that.

Her mother drew in an unsteady breath and attempted to collect herself. "I'd better go and find my seat before Aunty Pat steals it."

"That woman," said her dad affectionately, "she always thinks she's the star of every show."

Her mum walked up to Clara and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you soon, honey. Enjoy this day, it's the first day of the rest of your life. Remember everything about it."

"I will," Clara promised her and then she left, leaving her with just her dad.

Her father checked his watch. "I promised Alex we wouldn't keep him waiting. The poor lad is one big bundle of nerves. He's already thrown up twice."

"Oh," laughed Clara, "that's not what a bride wants to hear about her husband to be."

"I threw up for two days before marryin' your mum," he said philosophically. "I was dead sure she was going to come to her senses and not turn up at the church."

"But she did turn up," Clara reminded him gently.

"That she did," he said proudly, "and made me the happiest man on this and any other planet." Her dad stuck crooked his arm, holding it out to her. "Just like you're going to make Alex the happiest man in the universe. You ready, luv?"

Clara took her father's arm and nodded. "I'm ready." He led her out of the little ante-room the church had set aside for brides to get ready and then they were walking down the hallway which lead to the door where Clara would make her grand entrance. "Wait a minute, Dad." Clara opened the door ever so slightly and peered out at the crowd filling the pews. "I didn't know I knew so many people," she said nervously. Her gaze lingered over the Maitland family, sitting towards the front of the church. "The Maitland's are here." Clara frowned. "In my coma, I dreamt Mrs. Maitland was-was-" She couldn't finish her sentence, still remembering the grief of Angie and Artie as though it was a tangible thing.

"But that's all it was," her father reassured her. "Just a dream. You're awake now and about to start the rest of your life. You're marrying a good man and you're going to be very happy together." He smiled warmly at her. "That's all I ever wanted for you, Clara, to be loved and know the happiness your Mum and me share."

"I know," she said softly, "I know it is, Dad."

"Then are we doing this or not?" he teased her.

Clara smiled, taking a deep breath. "We're doing this. We're definitely doing this."

**oooOOOOooo**

The Doctor's hearts were beating erratically in his chest at hearing the chilling intent of the two women. "What's so special about, Clara?" he asked urgently, wanting to distract them for as long as possible and really needing to know the answer to that question. "You said you knew there was something different about her from the beginning," he continued on unevenly. "What was it? What did you see in her?" The Doctor had been traipsing around the Universe trying to find the answer to that question. Could these wolves in sheep's clothing actually have an answer for him at long last?

Miss Pearl smiled a cruel smile. "It doesn't even know what she is," she noted in amusement. "The fool who buries his treasure without ever truly knowing its worth."

"I know Clara's worth," said the Doctor heatedly. "I know she isn't something to be chewed up and spat out by corrupters of the words and knowledge."

"We are not the monsters in this story," said Miss Pearl indignantly. "We take what we need to survive. 'Tis you, creature, that is the destroyer of worlds. The rivers overflow with the blood you've spilt."

"I did what I had to protect the innocent," said the Doctor fiercely.

"The stories it tells itself to survive," sniffed Miss Agnes, almost looking amused. "The creature doesn't want to believe it is the thing which goes bump in the night, whose name gets whispered to scare the children into behaving. That it's the thing which lurks under the bed and makes the nighttimes unbearable for the innocent."

"That isn't who I am," he bit out.

"And no one is more scared of this misshapen beast than the creature itself," continued on Miss Agnes as though he hadn't spoken.

"So true, sister," agreed Miss Pearl readily. "So scared of its own nature, the creature tempts the innocent into its lair to distract itself from its true nature."

"The witch in the gingerbread house," cackled Miss Agnes, "luring all the children in with promises of sweets and adventure before stealing their innocence from them and then ultimately their lives. So many enter your little gingerbread box, creature, but how many come out?"

"That isn't me," said the Doctor unevenly, "that isn't what I do." Even as he said the words the Doctor feared he might be lying. The picture they painted of him and what he did was frightening to the Doctor. "Everyone who travels with me has a choice to do so."

"Do they?" asked Miss Pearl in disdain. "Do they really? You put a spell on them, creature, weave your magic around them so all they can see is the sweet and non of the sour, at least, not until it's too late for them to save themselves."

**oooOOOOooo**

"You're late," Clara chastised her friend good-naturedly as Liz took a seat at the restaurant.

"I'm fashionably late," said Liz easily as she settled in across from Clara in the exclusive eatery.

"And who gets to decide what that is?" asked Clara in amusement.

"Me, obviously," said Liz blithely. "I am the fashionable one, after all."

"You do look amazing," conceded Clara, taking in Liz's appearance carefully. "In fact, you look better than amazing."

"Of course, I do," said Liz. "Why wouldn't I considering who I'm married to."

"You're married?" repeated Clara in shock.

Liz rolled her eyes. "Listen to her, married for not even a year and she thinks she's invented the concept."

Clara was stunned. "Who did you marry?"

"You know perfectly well who I married," said Liz, starting to look a little worried now. "You were my bridesmaid. I made you wear teal and you said it made you look carsick, which it didn't by the way. You looked gorgeous, even my Benny commented." She pursed her lips. "Which I wasn't too thrilled about to be honest. It was my wedding day to Benjamin Brightly, scientist extraordinaire, all eyes were meant to be on me."

Clara blinked. "Oh, right, I forgot, yes, Ben, of course." Suddenly all the information was in Clara's head again. How Liz and Ben had met on a cruise and then he'd turned out to be a world-renowned scientist working on a way to ensure permanent rejuvenation in people. They'd fallen in love and been married within two months, quite the whirlwind courtship. Clara gave an uneven smile. "You know, I dreamed you'd said you were going to marry someone clever who'd discover the fountain of youth for you, when I was in my coma."

"Sweetie," said Liz gently, "I'd already met Ben when you had your accident. We were already married, remember? You're just getting muddled again."

Clara wrinkled her nose. "Sorry, sometimes I can't always remember what was from my coma and what actually happened." Now that Liz had said that, Clara's memories fell into order and she remembered all of that happening before the coma. "I keep finding I've taken parts of my real life and put them into my dreams while I was in that coma, or whatever it was."

"It's alright, babe, you know we all understand."

"I wish I did some days," said Clara ruefully. She shook her head, banishing the uneasy feeling which sometimes crept up on her. "Alright, so what's this exciting news? You sounded fit to burst on the phone."

Liz grinned. "Ben has made some new discoveries in his research." Her eyes opened wide. "Big, huge discoveries that are going to change the world."

"Bigger than keeping women all over the world looking like they're twenty, regardless of their age?" Clara teased her. "Because that's pretty big already. It's hard to imagine how Ben could top that."

"Well, he has," said Liz in satisfaction. "But I'm sworn to secrecy, I can't tell a soul."

Clara laughed. "Is that why you invited me to lunch? To tell me you have something you can't tell me?"

Liz pulled a face. "A little bit but I'm so excited, Clara, I have to tell someone that I can't tell them something."

Clara shook her head in amusement. "In that case, consider me told."

"I can tell you this though," said Liz, still brimming with obvious excitement. She leant over the table and lowered her voice in a conspiratorial fashion. "When Ben perfects what he's working on, there is a Nobel Prize out there with his name on it. Clara, you can't even begin to imagine how big this is."

"I really can't," said an impressed Clara.

"My Benny is going to change the word more than any man in history," said Liz proudly, "and when he does, we're going to be filthy rich."

"You're already filthy rich," pointed out Clara indulgently. Providing a beauty regime which stopped time in its tracks pretty much guaranteed that.

"Babe, when this breaks, our company is going to be able to print money."

"Isn't that illegal?" asked Clara cheekily.

Liz gave a self-satisfied smile. "Not when you find out what my clever hubby has managed to do."

"Well," said Clara, "colour me suitably intrigued."

"You mark my words, Clara Oswald-Whitley, very soon you're going to be living in a world you won't even recognise."

Clara kept a smile on her face but for some reason Liz's confident prediction sent a little chill down her spine.

**oooOOOOooo**

How many times had the Doctor watched people he'd cared about count the cost of having him in their lives? He refused to admit it to the gloating old women, but their words cut closer to home than the Doctor wanted them to. Letting them get to him wasn't going to help Clara though, so the Doctor fought past his guilt. "You're very eager to tell stories about me, but I can't help but notice you haven't answered by questions about Clara," he threw back at them. "You said you saw something different in her. If you want me to take anything you two say seriously, then tell me what you know about Clara."

"We know she is not one story, but many," offered up Miss Agnes.

"Everyone has lots of stories," said the Doctor dismissively. "I have thousands. You'll have to do better than that."

"Your stories are from but one life," countered Miss Agnes. "A thin piece of thread drawn out in a straight line. Granted, your line may run longer than most on this planet, but it is still only one thread."

The Doctor frowned. "And Clara?"

The sisters exchanged looks. "She is many threads, thousands and thousands of them," said Miss Pearl, "all entwined, all running out from a central point."

"Like a spider's web," chimed in her sister. "Each strand interwoven and linked to the other, yet standing alone."

"All I had to do was look at her and I could see all those other lives in her eyes, separate yet part of the same whole," said Miss Pearl excitedly. She walked up to where Clara was encased in her glass prison. "I could taste all of those stories she had to tell from those many lives, smell it in the air around her and I knew we had to have her."

The Doctor blinked rapidly, trying to work out what the women were saying. Clara was human. The Doctor had confirmed that with every bit of technology he had available to him. He'd gone to empaths and books and still only come back to one thing. Clara was human. Humans didn't have multiple lives, they lived, they died, just as Time Lords ultimately did. "What does that mean?" he asked unevenly. "How can Clara have lived other lives?" Even though the Doctor had met Clara in two of those other lives, he still couldn't understand how it was possible.

Miss Pearl ignored him, instead she was staring intently at the display on a panel in front of her. "Sister," she said, sounding confused, "come, I am in need of your wisdom in an important matter." Miss Agnes crossed the room, standing by her sister's side and immediately becoming engrossed in reading the information the panel was displaying.

"What is it?" asked the Doctor in concern. "What's wrong? Is something happening with Clara?"

Miss Agnes cocked her head and frowned. "I have not seen the like of this before, sister."

"Indeed, sister, this is most unexpected."

The Doctor swallowed hard. "You have to get Clara out of there. If she is different as you say, then that gas could be killing her."

Miss Pearl cast a disdainful look at the Doctor. "The gas is not killing the vessel, indeed, something miraculous is happening."

"Miraculous?" The Doctor didn't like the sound of that.

"The gas is engineered to harvest the stories these humans have to tell, pull it from their bodies and carry all that energy to us, for my sister and I to consume," explained Miss Pearl.

"But this one, this one is putting the gas to her own use," said Miss Agnes in amazement. "She is using it to help build a whole world inside of her head. "She is creating a reality and becoming absorbed into it, leaving her body behind."

"But how, sister?" asked Miss Pearl in consternation. "How is this vessel doing that?"

"I do not know, sister," said Miss Agnes in confusion. "It should not be possible for the vessel to corrupt the gas in this way."

Listening to them talk, something became crystal clear to the Doctor. "You have no idea what Clara is either, do you?" he demanded. "You were just bluffing. She's as much a mystery to you as she is to me." He made a disdainful noise. "How that must sting, the great collectors of knowledge, confounded by one little human," the Doctor scoffed.

"As are you, creature," snapped Miss Pearl in annoyance over her shoulder, "but you are wrong, my sister and I know exactly what this child is."

The Doctor's chin came up defiantly. "Really?" he challenged them. "What is she then?"

Miss Pearl's look was equally defiant. "Ours," she hissed triumphantly, much to the Doctor's dismay...


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N****: So happy to have gotten this chapter done. :D Don't know what you'll make of it, but I'm happy to have it done. This chapter is also quite conceptual, so again, I hope I'm not confusing anyone overly. Or if you are confused, it's a good confusion which has you coming back for more and not giving up on the story. **

**Things are starting to heat up now, so expect some action from now on and yes, some feels. ;) **

**Hope you enjoy and the next chapter is going to be introducing that other concept I was talking about in a previous A/N – should be interesting. **

**Thanks for reading and reviewing, guys. It means a lot to me to know how this fic is faring because it isn't all light and fluffy (which I do love for DW – see my other DW fic for that ;) ) but this is a bit more of a complicated story, so more of a challenge to write. Hopefully you'll continue to enjoy it. **

**See you next chapter... :D **

**Chapter NINE**

The sisters were talking to each other excitedly now. "If the vessel continues to create a world inside its head, we will be able to feed on it for all eternity," said Miss Pearl with glee.

"No, no, no," said the Doctor, voice sharp with anxiety. "You don't know what you're doing. You said yourself you've never seen anything like this before. You have to stop this." He cast a longing look over at his sonic screwdriver which was sitting on a nearby table. So tantalising close and yet so impossibly far.

Miss Pearl sniffed dismissively at the Doctor's urgent pleas. "It wants the vessel for itself, doesn't want anyone else to have it."

"I want Clara to be safe," said the Doctor fiercely.

"If you had wanted that, creature, then you would have let the vessel be, left her side forever," said Miss Pearl coldly. "All things die at your touch."

"That's not true," bit out the Doctor. "I've saved many lives, many life forms-"

"But not the ones it claims to care about," interrupted Miss Pearl, addressing her sister now. "For those it prepares a special kind of death."

The Doctor wanted to scream at them that what they were saying was a corruption of the truth but defending himself to these old witches wasn't his priority right then. Saving Clara was. Without the use of his beloved screwdriver, the Doctor's mind raced to come up with a way out of the handcuffs chaining him to the chair. He shifted in his chair and as he did, he suddenly felt the weight of Hattie the Hellion's hairbrush in his coat pocket. Without changing his facial expression, the Doctor twisted his arms around subtly so as to be able to reach the hairbrush with the pointy end to its handle. A potentially useful pointy end.

Miss Agnes nodded, seemingly oblivious to what the Doctor was up to as they chatted amongst themselves. "Indeed, sister. It calls us monsters yet we claim no attachments to the vessel. We do not share the cruelty that the monster itself delights in."

"And feeds off," agreed Miss Pearl. She pointed an imperious finger at the Doctor. "But this time it must give up its prized possession to those who have bested it."

"Clara isn't my possession," said the Doctor, indignant on her behalf. "She isn't something to be controlled." The hairbrush was in his hand now and the Doctor worked to manoeuvre it around so he could use the end of the brush to work on the lock of his handcuffs. It was tricky, particularly as he couldn't see what he was doing but there was too much at stake not to give it all he had. The Doctor's gaze drifted over to the helpless Clara, suspended in her glass cage but then he was abruptly dragging his eyes away. Seeing her like that made the Doctor want to scream and shout and Clara needed him to take control of this situation, not dissolve into a rage.

"But isn't that what you seek to do, creature?" asked Miss Pearl mockingly. "You wish to peel her open so she will reveal her mysteries to you. You want to possess her and her secrets, no matter the cost."

The Doctor almost lost hold of the hairbrush at that confronting accusation. He did need to know Clara's mysteries, it consumed most of his waking thoughts but those answers couldn't come at the cost of her life. His impossible girl had to live. Nothing was more important than that, certainly not his own life. "You have no idea what you're talking about," said the Doctor harshly. "I'd' do anything for Clara and everyone else who travelled with me." His jaw hardened, thinking of all the losses he'd endured. "Anything!"

Miss Agnes was unimpressed by the Doctor's vehemence. She smirked at him. "Except set them free, isn't that right, creature? It talks of nobility and sacrifice but it doesn't mean itself, it is other's sacrifice that makes its continuing existence possible."

Miss Pearl grabbed her arm. "Sister, the vessel is ready. We can receive her energy." The two women grinned at each other, old faces wrinkling in a perverse glee. "At last we will no longer know hunger. We will be satisfied and no longer forced to hunt these loathsome creatures."

Miss Agnes looked over at the Doctor. "And it will be witness to our greatest triumph. We will no longer consume knowledge but become it. Our lives will know no end nor limit."

"You'll be killed," the Doctor threatened them. "Your instrument, it isn't calibrated for what Clara is doing. You won't survive this."

The sisters exchanged looks. Miss Pearl spoke soon. "If this was true, then it wouldn't tell us so, sister. It wants us dead, why warn us unless it was looking to trick us?"

"Indeed, sister," Miss Agnes agreed quickly. "It just wants the vessel for itself, but we are too clever for it. We will take what is ours and it will be forced to watch its own defeat at our hands." She touched a few more buttons on what looked like to be the main control panel for their whole system and then the two women were hurrying over the large glass chamber all the other smaller chambers were hooked up to. "Today we will taste immortality, sister," said Miss Agnes, face lit up with excitement.

"Today we will become gods," agreed her sister eagerly.

"No!" shouted the Doctor. "Don't do this!"

The two women ignored him as they climbed into the chamber. The door slid shut and immediately the gas from Clara's chamber shot up the tubing linking it to the main chamber, heading towards the sisters.

The Doctor didn't know what was going to happen next but every instinct his long life so far had gifted him was screaming at him to stop this. "CLARA!" he shouted out in horror. "CLARA!"

**oooOOOOooo**

Clara pulled her latest soufflé out of the oven and set it down on the kitchen counter, grinning at how great it looked.

The front door clicked as Alex got back from his morning run. He walked down the hallway and into the kitchen, coming up behind Clara and admiring the culinary creation over her shoulder. "Another perfect soufflé from my brilliant wife." He kissed her cheek. "You're a marvel."

"It is good, isn't it?" said Clara in satisfaction, revelling in her own handiwork. She just loved how every one of her soufflés always came out perfectly. "I am the soufflé queen."

"Well, I'm going to take a shower before breakfast. I'm all sweaty from my run." Alex sent her a teasing smile. "If that's alright with her majesty?"

Clara affected a feigned haughtiness. "We will allow it."

Alex disappeared off into their bedroom, leaving Clara with her oh so perfect soufflé. She went to pick it up to move it onto a plate when she heard her name being called by a voice full of fear.

"_CLARA!" _

She started in surprise and her soufflé abruptly deflated. "Oh," Clara gasped and then called out to Alex. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he called back to her. "Why?"

"You said my name."

"No, I didn't."

Clara frowned opening her mouth to argue with him and then closing it just as quickly. Why would Alex lie to her? She looked around, wondering if she'd just imagined the panicked voice. She had to have, there was no other explanation. They were on the twelfth floor of an apartment block, it wasn't like it was going to be street noise. Clara shook her head, annoyed at herself for the little lapse and then grimaced at her now sad looking soufflé. "Oh, bother," she said in frustration.

Alex reappeared from the bedroom, this time with a shoebox in hand. "Uh oh, disaster in the kitchen I see."

"My soufflés never do that," complained Clara.

"Never mind, these things happen." He walked over to her and plonked down the shoebox on the kitchen bench beside her. "This will make you feel better. Here is everything cleaned out from my closet, like you asked."

Clara eyed the box sceptically. "I thought you were going to do a proper clean out? We both were, so we could donate to Good Will."

"I did do a proper clean out," protested Alex. "Everything left in my closet is vital to my existence."

"Right," said Clara wryly and then shook her head. "You're such a hoarder."

"I'm a collector, there's a difference."

"That's what a hoarder would say." Clara dragged the shoe box over to her. "Alright, let's see what you could bring yourself to part with." She took the lid off the box and peered inside. "Cuff links, a shoe horn, half a bottle of aftershave which looks older than me, a couple of ties-" Clara poked at the contents to make sure she was getting it all. "Oh, and an old watch." She picked it up and looked at the old fashioned men's fob watch more carefully. "That doesn't work."

"Did you say a shoe horn?" asked Alex, circling back round. "I could still use that." He reached a hand out to retrieve the little piece of plastic but Clara smacked his hand away.

"Oh no you don't," she chastised him. "It's going, end of."

"But-"

"But nothing," she said firmly, "and I'm going to be doing my own check of your closet and see what you missed."

"I need everything in there," said Alex. He opened his eyes wide and pouted ever so slightly, trying to look hard done by. "I'm a creature of comfort, my love. You wouldn't take that away from me, would you?"

Clara wasn't to be swayed. "Yes," she said unapologetically. "There are people in need, Alex and we have so much."

Alex huffed. "That's what I get for marrying a girl with a big heart," he grumbled good-naturedly. "My next wife is going to be a big old meany, you mark my words."

"Yeah, well, my next husband isn't going to be one step away from becoming a bag lady," threw back Clara sweetly.

Alex laughed. "At least I'd be a well-dressed bag lady."

Clara half-smiled. "There is that." She looked him over. "Weren't you going for a shower?"

"I was." He wiggled his eyebrows at her a little lecherously. "You could always come and join me."

"Can't," said Clara with mocking regret. "I've got a soufflé to remake."

"So, you made one bad soufflé." Alex shrugged. "Even royalty has their off days."

"I don't," said Clara, "not when it comes to soufflés." It was hard to explain but the failure of her soufflé that morning had sent a little chill of unease through her. Life was so perfect nowadays, it was hard to justify anything other than blissful happiness. The dreams she'd had during her coma had all but faded now. Clara could barely remember the stories she'd told when she'd first come out of that deep sleep. Just little snippets here and there of things which made no sense to her now, like submarines and ghosts and bowties. She couldn't picture anything from those dreams anymore, those images had faded utterly. Clara rarely ever thought of those strange dreams her mind had conjured up to cope with what was happening to her body. In fact, until this morning, it must have been months and months ago since she'd even given the whole experience a second thought. She looked down at the fob watch she was still holding in her hand. "This looks old." Clara looked back up at Alex. "Are you sure you want to throw it out?"

"It doesn't work," said Alex practically. "What's the point of a watch which can't tell time?"

Clara looked back at the watch, turning it over in her hand, taking in the intricate engraving and workmanship which had gone into it. Even though it was tarnished and broken now, there was something oddly intriguing about it to her. "It's beautiful," she murmured.

"It's broken."

"Where did you get it?"

Alex frowned. "Dunno. Can't remember. It's just rubbish now, throw it out."

Clara reluctantly nodded and put it back in the box. She forced a smile to her lips. "You're still standing there," she admonished him. "You'll be late for work. Who's going to save all those lives if you're not there?"

Alex gave an amused laugh. "Yeah, right, all those boo boos needing kissing better, all those scrapped knees needing bandaids. My job really isn't do or die nowadays."

Clara sent him a confused look. "But you're a surgeon. You're always saving lives."

Alex gave her a strange look. "Not anymore, honey. Not since Mytrex came out on the market."

Clara looked at him blankly. "Mytrex?"

"Yeah, you know," he prompted her, "the wonder drug from your best mate's husband, the wunderkinds, Ben Brightly." Clara's expression must have prompted Alex to clarify. "Mytrex arrests cellular decay and destruction. Once Ben's company released that drug and people started taking it, death and disease became a thing of the past." He smiled. "Heck, even accidents aren't that big a deal anymore, not with Mytrex's regenerative properties. You can grow a leg or arm back in less than a week. Hospitals are mostly empty now, just with a few of us overseeing the injuries which take more than a day to repair. There is that big symposium coming up to discuss what to do with all of the infrastructure which has become obsolete now, like hospitals, pharmacies, funeral homes and things."

"People-people don't die?" she asked unevenly, head spinning.

Alex looked taken aback. "No, of course not and nobody gets old anymore. You know that, Clara. It's like Ben discovered a way to manufacture the fountain of youth. Everything's different now. It's a whole new world out there, one free of suffering and pain." Alex cocked his head and sent her a vaguely worried look. "You know this, Clara. We were at the world-wide launch of Mytrex. Every world leader was there, they closed down half of London just to host it. There were parties in the street for months on end as Mytrex brought an end to human suffering and death."

Suddenly the images of that night full of hope and love filled Clara's mind. Everything was back in her head, the shared joy of all those people coming together and realising there was going to be no more losing loved ones, no more ever having to say goodbye to those you held dear. The celebrations had indeed gone on for months. Clara now remembered watching Ben accept the accolades of all the world leaders and the countries they represented, while Liz beamed proudly in the wings. Liz had been right, Ben had gotten a Nobel Prize and so many other tributes they'd given up counting. The world was a better place because of Ben and his discoveries and Clara was now living in a world where she'd never have to face the fear of losing anyone she loved ever again. She felt Alex cupping her face.

"You okay, honey?" he asked worriedly. "Are you having another drop out?"

Drop outs were what she and Alex called her little memory lapses which Clara still suffered from now and then. Sometimes she had to be prompted about things which she should have known. It was like her mind wasn't able to keep up all the time, new memories not taking root until she was reminded of them. Clara's smile was intentionally bright. "It's alright, I remember everything now. I was just having a moment."

"Have you taken your Mytrex today?" he asked her solicitously. "You know it helps with your drop outs."

Clara shook her head. "Ah, no, not yet."

"I'll go and get it for you. You'll feel better in no time." Alex bent down and kissed the top of her head and then went to fetch the medicine, leaving Clara lost in her thoughts.

**oooOOOOooo**

The Doctor was frantically struggling to get his hands free with the hairbrush as the room filled with a bluish light. The women's initial looks of expectant glee had faded now as they looked around themselves and their gas-filled chamber. Something was wrong, the Doctor could see it on their faces. The two aliens were trying to get out but the door seemed to be jammed. A whining noise was filling the room, signalling the equipment couldn't handle what was happening. The sisters were pounding on the glass now, faces twisted in what looked to be pain and terror. The Doctor worked even harder to free himself, eyes on Clara as she remained frozen in her glass prison. "My impossible girl," he called out to her in anguish. "What are you doing? What is happening to you?" The scream of the instruments was almost deafening as he finally felt one of the locks give way and one of the cuffs undo and the Doctor was free at last.

**oooOOOOooo**

Clara was working on her second soufflé of the day when Alex was done with his showering. He walked out of the bathroom still damp, with a towel around his waist and another around his neck. "Oh, I brought the post up. It must have come late yesterday. It's on the hallway table."

Clara stopped with her whisking to go and collect it. "Anything interesting?"

Alex was towelling his hair dry. "Didn't look," came the muffled reply.

Clara walked over to the hallway table and picked up the small stack of white envelopes. She quickly scanned each one and then stopped when she came to a pale blue envelope. On the back was stamped a name – T.A.R.D.I.S. Clara's heart was suddenly in her mouth and she didn't know why.

Alex peered over her shoulder, wet hair sticking out at every angle. "See you've got mail from the TARDIS."

"Wh-what?" she asked raggedly, feeling light-headed again.

"It's the acronym for The Aldrich Respite and Disability Institute of Services – TARDIS," clarified Alex. "You know, the Institute where you woke up and did all your rehab." He gave her a warm smile. "The place we fell in love."

Clara blinked rapidly. "Oh, yeah, right," she said unsteadily. "Of course. I've just never seen it written down like that before." Clara didn't know why this word was having such an effect on her.

Alex glanced at the envelope in her hand. "It's there standard letterhead. Nothing has changed in the last five years. I guess they want you to come back in for a check up, it's that time of year." He laughed. "You're still their mystery girl." Alex headed back to the kitchen.

"Impossible girl," she corrected him automatically.

"What?" he asked distractedly, going to pour himself a cup of coffee.

"I'm the impossible girl," repeated Clara, not even knowing what that meant but the words were ringing around in her head and she couldn't get them out.

Alex shrugged, looking at her over the top of his coffee cup. "Impossible, mysterious, it's all the same thing, I guess."

"I guess," whispered Clara.

**oooOOOOooo**

The Doctor leapt up from his chair, still with one of the cuffs around his wrist. He didn't care about that right then as he bolted towards the glass case containing Clara. The sisters were completely consumed by the gas in their chamber now and the Doctor could only assume they were already dead. Whatever Clara energy had poured into that gas had clearly not agreed with them. The Doctor didn't care about their fate, their greed had brought it all on themselves. The only thing he cared about was Clara as he grabbed his sonic screwdriver and raced towards her. The room shook, books falling from shelves and tables as the Doctor reached Clara's side. The gas swirled around her as she stood frozen in the glass chamber. Using the sonic screwdriver, the Doctor quickly took readings, trying to work out how to get Clara out without hurting her. Even the ground was shaking beneath his feet now as the instruments struggled to contain the energy of the world Clara had created in her mind. The Doctor knew there was no more time for finesse.

"It's alright, Clara," he yelled at her over the noise. "I'm here, I'm coming for you!" The Doctor looked around frantically and spied a metal poker over by the fireplace in other corner of the room. He bolted towards it, knowing he was going to need something like that if he had any hopes of breaking Clara out of that glass cage. The Doctor grabbed up the poker and was running back towards Clara when the noise reached its crescendo. A loud cracking sound filled the air as the chamber the sisters were huddled in cracked, thick glass rendering under all the pressure. The Doctor was forced to shield his eyes with his arm as the glass shattered into a million pieces, releasing the gas into the air with a noisy explosion. "CLARA!" he yelled frantically, unable to see her anymore. It was already too late as further explosions were set of. Suddenly the whole room erupted in a bright light, knocking the Doctor back off his feet and across the room, through a hail of books and broken wood and concrete.

**oooOOOOooo**

Clara was bent over, watching her second soufflé rise in the oven as Alex chatted to her about them perhaps going out to dinner tonight in the background. She was only half-listening to him, feeling oddly distracted today. Clara was unsettled, and she wasn't even sure why.

"CLARA!"

She straightened up abruptly at the sound of her name being shouted, not knowing where it was coming from. Suddenly her body was bombarded with a heat which felt like it was being generated from the inside out. Clara opened her mouth to give a gasp of pain but it was too late as an abrupt darkness swamped her, a coldness claiming Clara's every inch as she fell to the floor in a lifeless heap...

**A/N****: Cliffhanger... sorry. . **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N****: Hello all, raging head cold at the moment, so nobody come too close. I don't want to get my cooties all over you. . **

**Starting to get some traction with this story now... at least in my head, not sure how you're all faring, not too badly, I hope. :D One of my reviewers very cleverly pointed out that this new drug Mytrex is going to cause all sorts of problems with over population and a lot more issues beside. (See RTD's wonderful 'Miracle Day' from Torchwood to see how that would turn out. ;) ). From my point of view with this story though, I'm not so reality based... simply because this is all happening within Clara's dreams. You know how it is, in a dream it all seems to make total sense that your dog is the driver on the school bus and there is an antelope as your science lab partner. In dreams you don't tend to question things too much, they all just seem to make sense and work out... until you do start questioning them and that is usually when you're starting to wake yourself up. Keep that in mind, won't you, as we go along with this story. ;) **

**Now, that aspect of this story being said, I also want to go back to one of the original concepts of this story ie story telling. You know, in most of those fairy tales, something good happens before something bad. Like, the starving, lost children find the gingerbread house in the forest, the childless woman is granted a much desired child or a bright, shiny apple is offered to the protagonists of the tale. At first, these things all seem harmless enough... but once the people have partaken of the offered 'goodness', then the sting in the tale/tail appears. This story is pretty much following a classical story outline. Something is given... a world without loss and death... but there is always going to be a price to pay, a price beyond what Clara can initially appreciate. **

**Does any of that make sense? LOL I hope so, because that is what I'm building on. **

**So, let's get on with it and see what you make of this chapter, eh? **

**Chapter TEN**

The Doctor groaned, trying to move under the weight of rubble and books stacked on top of him. "Clara," he called out weakly. Instinct had him still holding on tightly to his sonic screwdriver. The Doctor wiggled a little in his tight space, trying to see through the cracks of bricks and books and work out where Clara was. It seemed like half the building had been levelled with the explosion resulting from the sisters trying to harvest all that energy Clara had been generating. They would have attracted attention and the Doctor had to get Clara away from here before nosey do-gooders appeared and started asking ridiculous and unnecessary questions, like what happened here? The Doctor peered through the still settling dust and tried again. "Clara!" _She was alright, he told himself frantically, of course she was alright._ One little explosion of which she was at the centre wasn't going to-to-... the Doctor couldn't finish that sentence. Instead he managed to struggle about in his confines enough to see through the small passageway of debris to see a hand at least twenty feet away from him. The Doctor squinted over the distance, trying to make out whose hand he might be looking at. Through a feat of not inconsiderable dexterity, the Doctor managed to manoeuvre his hand holding the sonic screwdriver into the small space in front of him. He angled it towards the unmoving hand and took a quick reading. "Clara!" he exclaimed in relief. The Doctor read the information his screwdriver was flashing up at him with avid interest. Clara was physically unhurt but her life signs were weak, barely detectable, unless you happened to have something like a sonic screwdriver at your disposal, which luckily, the Doctor did.

The Doctor twisted the screwdriver around, looking to pick up other life forms. There were none. It looked like the sisters should have listened to him after all. They'd been destroyed by the energy flowing out of Clara's mental world building. The Doctor couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for them. Their own greed had sealed their fate. All that mattered now was getting to Clara. "I'm coming, Clara," he called out to her. "It's going to be alright. I'm on my way." The Doctor looked around his cramped prison and pulled a face. "Well, working on it anyway." He started to pull at the books and debris blocking his way to Clara, trying to make a hole between them that he could actually fit into. The Doctor threw the bits and pieces of the rubble behind him as he managed to inch forward ever so slowly. "Nearly there," panted the Doctor, despite having moved less than half a foot during the last ten minutes. "We'll have you out of here in no time." This was going to take forever he concluded and Clara's life signs weren't getting any stronger. He had to do something now.

**oooOOOOooo**

Clara blew out an exasperated breath. "Would you please stop hovering? You're making me nervous."

"I'm your husband," said Alex firmly as he took a seat beside her on the sofa. "I'm supposed to hover when my wife passes out. It's in the fine print of our marriage certificate."

"I keep telling you I'm fine," said Clara in mild irritation. "I just stood up too quickly and had a dizzy moment. You're making a big deal out of nothing." She was underplaying what happened to her because truth be told, Clara didn't know what had happened to her. All she knew was that she'd come to with a concerned looking Alex peering down at her as she lay stretched out on the sofa.

Alex took her hand and played with it. "You know," he said slowly, "sometimes women faint when they're pregnant." Alex sent her a hopeful look. "You could be pregnant, Clara, you never know."

"I know," she returned determinedly, "and I'm not pregnant, Alex." He'd been mentioning babies a lot in the last year and Clara couldn't blame him. They were coming up to their fifth wedding anniversary in a month. They had the perfect marriage and life, of course babies came next. It was just that the thought of them made Clara nervous in a way she couldn't quite explain. Her face softened. "I know you think I'm crazy for wanting to wait for a bit longer-"

Alex shook his head and smiled, interrupting her. "I think you're brilliant and amazing and I understand about the babies."

"You do?" she asked hopefully.

"Well, no," he admitted, "but I'm a patient man. I can wait until you're ready. I mean, we've got all the time in the world nowadays, thanks to Mytrex. There is no cut off for fertility anymore."

"Right," said Clara slowly, "good old Mytrex."

Alex frowned. "I think I won't go into work today. You need me more."

"No, I don't," she laughed off his concern. "You'll only get under my feet. Go to work, Alex. I don't need a nursemaid hovering around and making me feel like there is something wrong with me when there isn't."

He pulled a face. "Are you sure?"

"Very sure." Clara inclined her head towards the door. "Now, get on with you. I've got things to do today and you're slowing me down."

"I think you should take it easy today," said Alex solicitously. "We still don't know why you fainted."

"I haven't eaten breakfast yet today," she said easily. "That's all it is. A few bits of toast and I'll be as right as rain."

"Mm," said Alex, still sounding not overly convinced. "Just promise me you'll ring me if you need anything."

"I promise." Clara fixed a reassuring smile to her lips. "Now, off to work you go. I've got secret women's business to be getting on with."

Alex grinned. "Like finding me a birthday gift, you mean?"

"Only husbands who do what they're told get birthday gifts," she warned him teasingly. "It's not looking good for you."

Alex stole a quick kiss. "In that case, your wish is my command, your majesty."

Clara smiled and waved him goodbye from the sofa as Alex headed off for the day. The smile slipped from her face once he was gone though. Clara rubbed the back of her neck and moved a little uncomfortably on the sofa, wondering why she couldn't shake this feeling of unease all of a sudden.

**oooOOOOooo**

After a second perusal of his situation, the Doctor had come up with another idea. "Right," he grunted, "time for a plan B." The Doctor fiddled with some settings on his screwdriver. "If I can just get all of these bits and pieces around me to resonate at the right frequency, I should be able to move them out of the way more easily." He didn't know exactly who he was talking to. Clara was unconscious and the sisters were dead but the Doctor always liked to hear his plans aloud. It was rather comforting he'd found over the years. He flicked the sonic screwdriver over to full capacity and pointed it at the meagre space in front of him. "Alrighty then, let's do this." The Doctor pressed the button on the screwdriver and the space in front of him was filled with a greenish glow. Everything around him blurred, as it resonated at an incredibly high frequency, all that matter moving faster than a hummingbird's wings. He pulled himself into the newly generated space, particles no longer existing where they used to and allowing the Doctor to add his own without a problem. A blurred space opened up in front of him and the Doctor grinned. "It's working!" he exclaimed excitedly, just before there was a loud crack from somewhere above him. The next thing the Doctor knew was that newly generated space was filled with hundreds of books, as a book case above him must have given way. He was now even more confined then he was before, every available space filled with broken books, as the Doctor was caught like a still breathing fossil in quick forming rock.

One half of his face was smooshed up against a book as he considered his latest predicament. "I'm not going to lie," the Doctor grunted, now finding it hard to breathe. "That's not gone as well as I'd hoped." Fortunately he still had a hold of his sonic screwdriver and the Doctor fiddled with the settings again, not needing to see what he was doing. This was a good thing because he couldn't actually see his outstretched arm, thanks to the cascade of books. "Nobody panic, I've got this all in hand." These pep talks were getting less comforting because the Doctor was beginning to suspect he didn't know what the heck he was talking about. He twisted his arm to be facing back around towards himself and hit the button. The book against his face quickly vibrated out of the way. However, the Doctor's triumph was short-lived as he hadn't been expecting that to work quite as swiftly as it had. Because of that slight miscalculation, the Doctor ended up taking a full blast of the sonic screwdriver in the face and promptly knocked himself out.

**oooOOOOooo**

Clara strolled down the streets of inner city London, returning the smiles and nods of passer bys. Everyone was so friendly nowadays. Gone were the days were eye contact was frowned upon in the crowded streets as people bustled off to where they needed to be. There was a much more relaxed and contented feel to those who occupied London for awhile now. Clara glanced around herself at the bright snow which had just fallen that morning. The snow always seemed to look like that these days. It never went grey and sludgy, it was just always white and fluffy and the cold in the air was bracing rather than bone chilling. In fact all of London was looking incredibly clean and fresh now that Clara thought about it. It was as though someone had gone through and cleaned and painted every available surface. Everything sparkled and looked like it was brand new. Clara tried to remember when this transformation had happened but couldn't quite pinpoint it. At the time she hadn't noticed, accepting, along with everyone else, their newly pristine surrounds. Only now Clara was finding herself questioning it and she didn't know why. For some reason, everything looking so perfect was making Clara feel unsettled. She frowned at herself for being so stupid. Why would anyone ever want to claim about a city being friendly, clean and pretty? It made no sense, yet Clara couldn't get the worrying thoughts of how, why and when out of her head.

Clara tried to ignore the questions buzzing around in her head and instead get back to concentrating on finding a present for Alex's birthday. His birthday was just one week before their wedding anniversary and every year it was getting harder to buy for him. Alex really was impossible to buy for because if he wanted anything, he'd just buy it himself. Clara prided herself with coming up with creative ways to surprise him each year, but this year she was drawing a blank. She absently stuck her hand inside the pocket of her coat and encountered the hard, metal object in there. Clara drew out the fob watch which Alex had been intent on throwing out and looked at it in her hands. She didn't know why she was so fascinated with it but she was. That fascination had seen her picking up the broken watch on impulse, as she'd left the apartment that morning. Clara turned it over in her hands, pondering over how it had come to be in her husband's possession. She walked without really looking where she was going, her attention focused on the strangely absorbing time piece. Clara was forced to look up though, when her shoulder contacted with someone else's. "Sorry," she said on instinct, turning her head to apologise to the person she'd run into. The breath hitched in Clara's throat as the man looked back at her, his face contorted into a horrible monster's face, all twisted skin and sharp teeth. Clara frozen on the spot, breath hitching in her throat as she blinked rapidly.

"No problem, my fault," said the man easily, the monster's face gone as quickly as it had appeared to be replaced with a grey-haired man with a ready smile. "Happy Christmas."

"You-you too," she stammered, staring at the man who seemed completely normal now as he strolled off. Clara turned back around and looked at her reflection in a nearby shop front glass. She looked pale and scared, at odds with the happy faces she could see reflected in the glass and walking around in the streets behind her. A little girl holding her mother's hand went by in the reflection of the glass and Clara smiled to see the sight but then the child's face contorted and became the same mask of hideousness she'd seen on the man's face. Clara whirled around to look at the child properly but when she did, the blonde haired little girl's face was completely normal as she chatted excitedly with her mother. Shaken, Clara backed up and then turned around, starting to walk faster. She didn't know where she was going as she scurried away from those shocking hallucinations, all Clara knew was she needed to put space between them and her.

She walked down the alleyways, turning left, then right without taking any real notice of where she was going. One more right hand turn had the people all but gone from the streets and the daylight seeming to dim, as though the sun couldn't reach down into these twisty turny streets. Clara's footsteps slowed as she came to a dead end, a huge brick wall which looked dilapidated and stained blocked the way and was a far cry from the shiny cityscape only a few short streets away. It was like the cleaning crew responsible for the rest of London hadn't quite made it down to these backstreets. Clara turned around to retrace her steps but as she did, she happened to notice an unassuming shop front. The sign outside the tiny shop quietly claimed to be able to fix any watch or timepiece. Clara looked down at the watch she still had in her hand. Suddenly she was walking towards the small building, which its awning proclaimed as "The Watchmaker's Shop", before she knew what she was doing.

Clara pressed on the door. The bell attached to the door clanked with no form of musicality whatsoever. She glanced up at it, seeing how rusted up it was that even the clanger couldn't move. Clara stepped inside the dimly lit store and couldn't help but shiver. It was colder in the shop then outside on the snow covered streets. She pulled her coat a little more securely around her and started to walk hesitantly into the shop. "Hello?" Clara called out, as she looked around herself with some trepidation at the poorly lit shop. There were rows and rows of clocks, all stacked up, higgledy piggledy on top of one another, littering the walls and every available surface. There were wooden clocks, round ones, square ones, grandfather clocks, cuckoo clocks and every other kind of clock that could be imagined. They were all covered in dirt and grime and not a single one of them was working. Clara wrinkled her nose. Not exactly a great advert for a place which claimed to be able to fix any clock. Nonetheless, Clara found herself continuing to walk forward until she got to the dirty counter which was covered in dust with bits scraps of yellowed paper strewn all about. Behind the counter was a partitioned glass area. Through the opened door she could see a work bench, completely littered with tools and bits and bots which she assumed were for doing watch repairs. Squinting, Clara tried to see through the grubby glass. "Hello?" she called out again. "Is there anyone there?" There was a movement behind the filthy glass, a dark shadow and then there was the sound of a grumpy man's voice.

"What do you want?"

Clara waited for the man to put in an appearance but when he didn't she cleared her throat nervously. "Ah, I have this watch, it belongs to my husband. It doesn't work and he's got a birthday coming up and I-I-ah, thought you might be able to fix it." Clara paused. "This is your shop, right? You're the Watchmaker?" When there was no reply, Clara continued on hastily. "You sign said you could fix any watch."

"I used to be able to do a lot of things," came the short reply.

Clara couldn't work out if she was talking to a young man or an old one. The shadow behind the dust-laden glass moved and she was able to make out a tall, lanky silhouette, but nothing else. "Can you fix this?"

"Nobody fixes things these days," said the man tightly. "Broken things just get thrown away."

"Not always," she argued with him. "I'm here, I want this fixed."

There was a very long pause, so long Clara began to suspect she'd been summarily dismissed. She looked down at the watch in her hand and grimaced, not sure why this was so important to her. Clara turned around and slowly started to leave the creepy and oppressive store.

"Leave the watch."

The surprising instruction had Clara stopping in her tracks. She turned around to see the shadow still hadn't moved from behind the glass.

"Leave the watch and I'll look at it."

A large smile broke across Clara's face at the terse instruction. She hurried back to the counter and laid the watch down on it. "Okay, thank you."

"Come back this afternoon and I'll tell you whether anything can be done with it. That is, if you still care about the thing."

"I will and I do," she said quickly.

The man seemed less than convinced. "We'll see."

"Um, well, goodbye then." There was no response so Clara took a few backwards steps and then she was turning back around and hurrying out of the strange little broken down shop and its even stranger occupant. Outside in the relative warmth of the street Clara glanced back over her shoulder and sent a curious eye over the shop, knowing she'd be back there, even if the owner wasn't so sure. She didn't know why but it felt good to be doing something which made no sense...

**A/N****: So, how are we doing? Did I lose anyone? Everyone is on the same page as to who the Watchmaker might be? ;) Next chapter, 'Prince Charming' to the rescue... well, I **_**say**_** Prince Charming... and well, I **_**say**_** 'to the rescue' but well, guess you'll have to wait and see how that all goes... :D **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N****: I just want to say a quick thank you to all of you who have been so supportive of this fic. I know there are a crazy amount of DW fics out there, so I'm very honoured you've taken some time to stick with this one. I hope I continue to make it worth your while. **

**Now, let's hop back into the two worlds I've created and see what's going on with each of them, eh? Thanks, as always, for reading and I hope you enjoy. :)**

**Chapter ELEVEN**

Clara walked back into The Watchmaker's Shop and noticed the door bell gave a jaunty little jangle this time. She looked back over her shoulder and up, taking in the new looking bell with surprise. Turning back around, she noticed some other little changes in the shop as well. It was still very dimly lit, but the room was much warmer now, pleasant even. Clara took a couple of steps into the shop and also noticed that a few of the clocks dotting the walls and shelves were actually working, quietly ticking away when only this morning there had been dead silence. "Someone's been busy," she murmured under her breath as she continued on into the shop and stopped at the counter. "Ah, hello," Clara called out, "umm, Mr. Watchmaker, it's me, I'm back." She'd spent the morning walking around the city, being sure to stay where there were large groups of people. There hadn't been a repeat of the strange apparitions Clara had seen earlier and she was glad. Her mind was just playing tricks on her, that's all. There were no monsters lurking behind the smiling faces of the people around her, it was all in her head.

"So I see."

Clara started at the sound of the man's voice from behind her. The Watchmaker was standing by a row of clocks on a floor to ceiling free-standing shelf. Half of him was behind the make-shift partition and the other half was still in shadows. Clara squinted to try and make out his features. He was tall as his silhouette had suggested and even from the shadows she could see he was a little unkempt. His hair was a shaggy brown colour and covered half of his face while his clothes, a slightly old fashioned jacket and trousers with a vest looked to be a bit shabby, like he'd been wearing them for a long time without changing. Clara was still trying to work out how old this man was. It was hard to tell, his voice sounded old but what she could see of his face didn't seem to bear that out. She took a step towards him. "Did you look at my watch? Can it be fixed?"

"Anything can be fixed, once you know it's broken."

Clara wrinkled her nose at the cryptic reply. "Yes, well, I know it's broken because it doesn't tell time. So, does that mean you can fix it?"

"Do you still want it fixed?" the Watchmaker asked quietly.

"Yes, of course, why wouldn't I?"

He turned and looked out through the grubby windows at the other end of the shop. "Because, nowadays, people aren't interested in broken things, only bright, shiny perfection."

Clara frowned, feeling like he was criticising her personally with that statement but not entirely sure why. "Life isn't perfect," she responded. "Everyone has to deal with stuff when things go wrong."

"When do things go wrong now?" he countered. "No one gets sick or permanently hurt or dies now. There isn't even a police force to speak of anymore. Everyone is too busy being perfectly happy all the time."

Clara was taken aback. "Why are you saying that like it's a bad thing? Happiness is good, it's great, in fact. What could anyone have against happiness?"

"Happiness doesn't have any meaning if it's happening in a vacuum," said the Watchmaker sharply.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you only ever really appreciate the sweet when you've tasted the sour," he said simply. "Life without pain and loss makes a mockery of true happiness."

"Well, clearly you've never lost anyone you love then," snapped Clara defensively.

The Watchmaker finally moved out of the shadows and walked right up to her. The breath hitched in Clara's face as she came under the intense stare of those green eyes which looked too old to belong to what she could see now was such a young face. He came to a halt in front of her and Clara was forced to crane her neck right back because she was unable to break eye contact with the Watchmaker's compelling gaze. His tone was clipped and full of pain as he bit out his reply to her. "I have lost everyone who ever mattered to me in my life. I always do and I always will. I only know loss, there is nothing else for me."

Clara blinked rapidly. "I-I'm sorry," she said breathlessly. "I didn't mean to upset you. I shouldn't have said what I did."

The Watchmaker looked away abruptly, hiding his face from her.

Clara put out a tentative hand and laid it on his threadbare jacket. "I truly am very sorry. I wish I could do something to-"

"Fix things?" he finished off for her a little bitterly.

Clara grimaced and bit her bottom lip. "Yes," she said quietly.

The Watchmaker looked back at her, studying her face intently before his own softened a little. "Little Clara, so intent on saving everyone, no matter what the cost."

Clara's heart skipped a beat. "How did you know my name?"

The Watchmaker's gaze drifted down to her neckline. "It's on your necklace."

Clara put a flustered hand to her throat, feeling the letters of the silver necklace spelling out her name, the one Alex had given her last Christmas. "Oh, yes, of course." She was conscious of how close the Watchmaker was standing to her but she couldn't seem to bring herself to step backwards and create some space between them.

"Tomorrow," he said abruptly.

"Wh-what?" asked a disconcerted Clara.

"The parts of for the watch, they're going to be hard to source," the Watchmaker explained. "I'll need to do some research to see if I can find them."

"Oh, okay," said Clara slowly, only remembering the watch now. "Shall I call you tomorrow?"

"I don't have a phone."

"Everyone has a phone," protested Clara.

"I don't."

"Oh, then I guess I'll come by again," she said hesitantly. "If that's alright with you?" Clara wasn't sure why she was asking him that. This was a place of business and she was a customer, his only customer by the looks of things. Why wouldn't he want her to come back? Nonetheless, Clara found herself holding her breath as she waited for the Watchmaker to reply.

He was back to studying her carefully. "This is your life, Clara, yours to do with whatever you please."

Again, that sounded vaguely critical to Clara and she still didn't know why. "Fine then," she said with more defiance this time. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll be here," he said simply.

Clara nodded and drew herself up to her full height, which wasn't that much compared to him but it made her feel better after this confusing encounter. "Right, I'll see you tomorrow then." She turned around and headed towards the door, willing herself not to look back.

"Until tomorrow," he agreed.

Clara couldn't help herself as she sneaked a peak back over her shoulder to the Watchmaker, who was just standing there, watching her leave. She didn't know why she found him so compelling but Clara knew already she was going to be wishing away the hours until she'd be able to see this strange, mysterious man again.

**oooOOOOooo**

"Come on, Artie!" called out Angie in frustration. "We're going to miss the bus."

Her brother's voice floated down to her from upstairs. "I can't find my other shoe."

Angie rolled her eyes. "Where did you last see it?" she yelled up to him.

"On my feet."

"I'm not going to miss the bus because of you," she threatened him as a loud knocking started on the door. "You can go to school barefoot, I don't care."

"It's too cold to go barefoot to school," protested her younger brother.

"Not my problem!" she shouted back to him as the knocking at the door only got louder and more frantic. Angie walked up to the door. "Hold on, hold on," she muttered and then more loudly. "Who is it?"

"It's me," came the urgent reply. "Open the door."

Angie quickly undid the locks her Dad had been so insistent she locked before he headed off early to work that morning, with the instructions not to let any strange people in, ever. She was hard pressed to imagine anyone stranger than the Doctor, but he sounded very flustered, which could never be a good thing. Even though Angie had pretended not to be bothered by the Doctor's worries over Clara's date, she couldn't help but notice her nanny hadn't come home last night. She'd told herself it was nothing but even Angie knew when it came to the Doctor, it was never nothing. Angie opened the door and her mouth dropped open at the sight in front of her. "What happened to you?" she squeaked. The Doctor looked a right sight. His clothes were all covered in dust and dirt, one shoulder seam of his coat was all torn and there was another tear in his trousers, over his knee. Even his usually immaculate bowtie was half undone, dangling rather lopsidedly around his neck. The Doctor himself was also covered in dirt, smeared all over his face and his hair was standing up at every angle, like he'd just walked through a tornado or something. He looked a complete mess.

"Book avalanche," said the Doctor hastily. "Nasty things, don't recommend them at all. Had to eat my way out."

Angie's tone was sceptical. "You ate your way out of a pile of books?" She gave a little snort. "That's not possible."

"For your puny little human digestive systems maybe," said the Doctor dismissively, "but for a Gallifreyan's state of the art digestive track, it was nothing." He pulled a face. "Well, maybe not exactly nothing. It did take a little while." Suddenly the Doctor let loose with the loudest belch Angie had ever heard. The explosion of air actually rattled the door she was still holding onto. The Doctor thumped his fist against his chest and smacked his lips together. "That's Oscar Wilde for you, always having to have the last word."

Angie gave up trying to get sense out of the man and looked past him. "Where's Clara?" Her brow furrowed in concern. "Is she alright?"

"Yes," said the Doctor immediately, "but also, in a slightly more accurate way, no."

Angie made a distressed noise. "Was she in this book avalanche too?"

"Yes, but she's fine, Clara wasn't hurt," the Doctor quickly assured her.

"Then where is she?"

"On her way to the morgue."

Angie gave a cry of horror. "You said she was alright!"

"And she is," said the Doctor with absolute certainty. "I came to from an unfortunate screwdriver incident which could have happened to anyone," he waved an imperious finger at Angie. "Don't judge me!"

"Clara," said Angie emotionally, "what happened to Clara?"

"I'm getting to that," huffed the Doctor, "but you will keep interrupting me. As I said, I regained consciousness from a completely understandable little accident, just in time to hear them taking Clara away. I did a scan and she is definitely not dead but I did still have to get myself out of my book situation."

"But they think she is," said Angie anxiously.

The Doctor gave a snort of disgust. "That's humans for you, always ready to jump the gun at the slightest little thing like lack of a discernible heartbeat. There are more than thirty-eight stages of death, you know, and Clara's barely a three on that scale."

"So, she is dead then?" asked Angie shakily, feeling emotional tears well up in her eyes. As hard of a time as she gave her young nanny, Angie really did love Clara.

"No, of course not," snapped the Doctor in annoyance. "I do wish you'd listen. She has only a very small case of death, hardly worth mentioning at all, to be honest."

"So-so you can fix this?" Angie's tone was hesitant.

"Beyond a shadow of a doubt," said the Doctor confidently.

Artie chose that moment to come down the stairs, sporting two different kinds of trainers on each foot. He sent his sister a defiant look. "I'm not going barefoot to school." Artie's attention was taken over by the Doctor. "Oh hi there." The boy looked him over. "What happened to you?"

"Book avalanche, ate my way out, Oscar Wilde gives me gas."

Artie looked at his sister for clarification. She shook her head at him. "Don't bother, the long version doesn't make any more sense." Angie looked back at the Doctor. "You promise you can help Clara?"

The Doctor lifted up both index fingers and painted a cross on either side of his chest simultaneously. "Cross my hearts."

Artie walked down the rest of the stairs, young face creased with concern. "Clara is in trouble?"

"A little case of mistaken deadness," said the Doctor blithely. "It's nothing."

Artie's eyes went wide. "Deadness?"

"He didn't mean that," said Angie quickly and then glared at the Doctor. "Did you?" Her eyes narrowed. "You're frightening him," she hissed.

"Oh," said the Doctor in surprise, "sorry, yes, Clara's fine and most definitely not dead in any way, shape or form."

"Then where is she?" asked Artie uncertainly.

"At the morgue," replied the Doctor without thinking and then grimaced. He held up a finger to hold up any further criticism from Angie. "Where she is just visiting and waiting for someone to come and pick her up."

"Then why aren't you there?" asked Angie in frustration.

The Doctor cocked his head. "Because I may need a little bit of help." He smiled brightly as he looked expectantly between the two of them. "They still teach bodysnatching in public schools, right?" The Doctor nodded his head at them encouragingly. "That's a thing, isn't it?"

"No," said Angie flatly.

"I'm making a papier-mâché piñata for my Spanish class," offered up Artie hesitantly.

The Doctor clicked his fingers together excitedly. "Excellent," he beamed, "that's practically the same thing. This is going to go swimmingly."

The siblings exchanged concerned looks, suspecting that was going to be the case at all...

**A/N****: Okay, kiddies, brace yourself for some ensuing hi jinx in one reality and some growing drama/danger in another. Stay tuned, gentle reader, won't you? :D **


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N****: Hello all, so sorry this chapter has taken me awhile to get to you. I've been out of town for the last week with work, so I haven't had a chance to do any writing. Still, a day off today, so I got back into it with this chapter. **

**I hope it makes sense to you with the action stuff. **

**Thanks for your patience with this fic – hope you enjoy. **

**Cheers. :D **

**Chapter TWELVE**

The Doctor rubbed his hands together and looked expectantly between the two children staring at him as they all stood hidden behind a van in the hospital car park. "Right, any questions about the plan?"

Artie stuck his hand up. "Why can't you just take your blue box into the building and grab Clara?" He looked over at the imposing red brick building with the heavy double metal doors with a security guard milling around in front of it. "Wouldn't that be easier?"

The Doctor shook his head emphatically. "No, this has to be a subtle operation." He looked between the children again. "You both know what subtle means, right?"

Angie arched an eyebrow. "Do you?" she asked sceptically.

"Of course I do," huffed the Doctor. "It's the opposite of anti-subtle."

"That's not a word," said Angie flatly.

"Excuse me," said the Doctor indignantly at being challenged, "did you just eat a library? No, I didn't think so. Anti-subtle is definitely a word."

Angie was unconvinced. "I don't think you make good plans."

"Based on what?" asked the Doctor crossly.

"Based on the fact you were going to go and save Clara from that Rhomeo guy and now she's in the morgue," said Angie unhappily.

"Yes, well, granted, there may have been a hiccup or two, but we're back on track now," he hedged. The Doctor pointed a finger at Artie. "Right, Artie, into the ambulance. You're on look out. If you see anyone coming, just honk the horn to let us know."

Artie's dark curls bobbed up and down as he nodded. "Okay."

The Doctor's attention was now on Angie. "And you know what you have to do, right?"

"Distract the guard so you can get in unnoticed," said Angie dutifully.

The Doctor eyed her. "Do you think you can do that? I need him away from that door so I can get into the morgue, grab Clara and we can make our escape."

Angie's bottom lip quivered and her brown eyes filled up with tears. "I-I don't know. I'm lost and confused and I don't know where my Dad is." She drew in a ragged breath as tears spilled down her face, making her look like the most heart-breaking sight in the world. "Will you help me, please?"

The Doctor was taken aback at her sudden mood change and he put a tentative hand on her shoulder. "Your Dad's at work, Angie. Do you want me to take you to him?"

Angie snorted and knocked his hand away, the timid, frightened expression gone from her face in a flash. "Of course not, you idiot. I'm fine."

"Oh," said the Doctor in surprise as he realised she'd been faking all that emotion, "that's very-very-"

"Clever?" asked Angie smugly.

"I was going to say disconcerting."

"How do you think I got the latest laptop from my Dad? I can cry any time, any place, whenever I want to."

The Doctor looked her over a little warily. "Promise me you'll only use these powers of yours for good and not evil, Angie. I don't want to be involved in creating a monster." The girl was frightening good at manipulating people it seemed.

"You're asking me to use them to break the law now," pointed out Angie.

"We're not breaking the law," he protested. "At the most we're grazing it, gently, with a feather, which at worst would come from a chicken, maybe a turkey but definitely not an ostrich. I'm thinking a much smaller feather than that."

"Is that going to be your defence in court if we get caught?" asked Angie, looking less than impressed. "Because if it is, I want to be tried separately."

"We're not going to get caught," said the Doctor emphatically. "And do you want to know why?"

Angie wrinkled her now. "Dumb luck?"

"No, because Artie is going to be on look out." He gave Angie an annoyed look. "And luck doesn't always have to be dumb," huffed the Doctor. "Sometimes it can be quite clever luck."

"Then why doesn't anyone ever say that was clever luck? They only ever say dumb luck."

"We don't have time for this," said the Doctor in frustration. "We need to get Clara out of that place before-" He stopped abruptly, catching himself before he said anything too graphic.

"Before what?" asked Artie fearfully. His eyes went wide. "What do they do to people in there?"

"It doesn't matter," said the Doctor dismissively, "because Clara isn't going to be in there for much longer." He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and hurried over to one of the parked ambulances. A quick burst of sonic power had the driver's door of the ambulance open. "Come on then, Artie, in you hop." The boy scrambled up into the large vehicle and sat behind the wheel, his head just making it up to the same level as the steering wheel. "Now then," said the Doctor, "you're the look out. You sit here and ah, well, look out – you got that?"

"Yes," said Artie, "and I just honk the horn if I see someone going into the building after you do."

"Perfect," said the Doctor as he closed the ambulance door, hiding Artie from sight. "Sit tight and your sister and I will be back in a flash." He turned to Angie. "Okay, your turn. Get that security guard away from that door so I can get in and retrieve Clara. Draw him away from the door, lose him and then meet us back at the ambulance. Got that?"

"I'm not an idiot, I've got it."

Artie's voice piped down to them from the ambulance as he leaned out the window to still be in on the conversation. "And when you find Clara, she's going to be alright?" he asked anxiously. "You promise she's okay?"

"Absolutely," said the Doctor without hesitation. "Nothing is going to happen to Clara."

"She's already in the morgue," said Angie gloomily.

"Alright," back-pedalled the Doctor, "nothing _else_ is going to happen to her. This is just a slight bump in what is otherwise a smooth road." He sent a determined look at the worried children. "Everyone got that? We're on a bump-free road."

The children murmured less than confident-sounding agreements but the Doctor was already eyeing off the front doors to the morgue. "Alrighty then, action stations team. Everyone stay sharp and this will be all over before you know it." The truth was, the Doctor was more nervous than he was letting onto his young cohorts. It had been over an hour since he'd last taken a reading on Clara and the Doctor really needed to make sure that she was coming good after her exposure to that Xeon gas. Technically it should be clearing her system and Clara should be coming around soon and the last thing the Doctor wanted was for Clara to wake up in a morgue all alone. The thought made him even more anxious as he watched Angie make a beeline for the security guard. He and Artie watched the teenager from a distance. They were too far away to hear what story Angie was selling the guard but sure enough, the expression on the man's face because distinctly worried as she turned on the waterworks. Within minutes the man was leading her away, most likely on the hunt for her Dad and the coast was clear. The Doctor turned around and gave a triumphant thumbs up to Artie and then his long legs were racing across the car park to get to the doors. A quick blast of sonic energy had both the CCTV knocked out and the doors open. The Doctor ran down the sterile looking corridors, checking each door he came to and seeing where it led. It didn't take long to find the room which contained the rows of drawers where bodies were lifted onto and filed away neatly into refrigerated holes in the wall.

Again, the sonic screwdriver made short work of the security keyword pad at the door and the Doctor was slipping inside. Rows of drawers lined the walls, all with handles to draw out their occupants on a sliding rail. The Doctor, however, was more interested in the two trolleys in front of him, both with black body bags on them. He ran up to the first trolley and unzipped the bag enough to see the person inside. Clara's serene features were unveiled as she lay still and pale on the trolley. "Clara," said the Doctor in relief, "I'm here. It's all going to be fine now, I promise." He bent down and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, finding it too cold for his liking. The Doctor did a quick scan with his sonic screwdriver. The readings told him Clara's vital signs were still incredibly faint but most definitely there. He looked back at the unmoving Clara. "I don't know about you, but this place is giving me the creeps. How about you and me blow this pop stand, eh?" Clara didn't answer, not that the Doctor expected her to, even though he'd allowed himself some small sliver of hope. A noise behind him had the Doctor abruptly turning around. On the other side of a glass partition at the other end of the room, a man in green scrubs had just walked into the room. He had white leads running into his ear, headphones attached to his iPod and the young man bopped away to the music only he could hear, head bouncing up and down. The man walked over to a desk and took a seat at the computer sitting at the desk attached to the wall. Not bothering to look around, the man started to tap away on the keyboard, engrossed in his task.

The Doctor slowly backed up, not taking his eyes off the man. If the morgue attendant turned his head, just even a little bit, he would see the Doctor and any hopes for a quiet extraction of Clara would be dashed. The Doctor continued to back up until he felt the bump from the trolley behind him. Keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the young man, the Doctor reached behind himself and grabbed the end of the trolley, now backing Clara and himself up at the same time. The Doctor felt the other end of the trolley gently bang against the swinging doors into the room and he just kept pushing the trolley until the doors swung open. He backed the two of them out of the room, never taking his eyes off the other man until they were in the corridor. Once in the corridor, the Doctor quickly swung round and started pushing the trolley towards the front doors. He burst out into the sunshine, just as Angie ran around from the other side of the building, obviously just having ditched the guard.

"Is that Clara?" she asked a little breathlessly, eyeing the black bag on the trolley.

"Yes," said the Doctor distractedly as he checked over his shoulder to make sure no one was following him yet.

"Why is she so tall of a sudden?"

The Doctor frowned at the question. "What?" He looked back around to see the black bag did indeed seem to contact a person who was so tall, their feet hung off the end of the trolley. The Doctor scurried around to the head of the trolley and peeked inside the bag. He straightened up abruptly, a grimace marring his features.

"Doctor?" asked Angie warily. "What have you done?"

"Nothing, nothing," said the Doctor blithely as he wheeled the trolley around. "Slight bump in that road. I'll be right back."

"You've taken the wrong person, haven't you?" asked a seriously unimpressed Angie.

The Doctor was already scurrying back into the morgue with the trolley. "Maybe." He heard Angie's 'unbelievable' comment behind him but couldn't spare the time to defend his honour. The Doctor had indeed rolled the wrong trolley out of that holding room. With his back to the trolleys because of the morgue attendant, he'd accidentally backed into the wrong person to abscond with. It could happen to anyone, an easy mistake to make. At least, that's what the Doctor told himself. Back at the refrigeration room, The Doctor peered through the window and saw the attendant was still at the computer. There was nothing for it, he was just going to have to attempt a switch. Very carefully the Doctor wheeled the tall man's trolley back into the cold room. This time he made sure he had Clara's trolley and went to guide it out. One of the wheels gave an almighty squeak and the Doctor froze, eyes going wide as he looked over at the attendant who was still absorbed in his computer work. He tried again but the squeak was even louder. The Doctor gave up the trolley idea and improvised. He hastily unzipped the body bag all the way down and slid his hands under Clara's slumbering frame. The Doctor lifted her slight weight off the trolley and into his arms.

"Hey! What are you doing?!"

The angry question had the Doctor's head snapping around as the morgue attendant finally turned his head and realised what was going on. "Routine inspection," lied the Doctor hastily. "Seems like this one isn't dead. Just going to release her back into the wild. No need to bother anyone, really."

The attendant looked horrified as he took in what he thought was a man holding a dead woman in his arms and he clearly wasn't buying what the Doctor was trying to sell. The Doctor knew there was no time to explain so he did the only thing he could under the circumstances... ran. Bolting out of the room and into the corridor, the Doctor ran as fast as he could for the car park doors, Clara bouncing around in his arms. He'd only gotten halfway down the hallway when a piercing siren filled the air, the attendant obviously having raised the alarm. The Doctor burst through the doors to see a horrified Angie.

"What did you do?" she asked in horror. "Now what are we going to do?"

"Same plan," called out the Doctor as he ran past her, not slowing down for a second. "We're just doing it faster."

Angie gave a loud groan behind him but then she was hurrying to get to the ambulance to open the back doors up for him. The Doctor leapt up into the back of the ambulance and laid Clara down gently on the cot attached to the wall. "Look after her," he instructed Angie urgently as the teenager clambered into the back of the ambulance as well, slamming the doors shut behind her. The Doctor, meanwhile, scrambled into the front of the ambulance, taking a seat on the passenger's side. He looked across to a stressed looking Artie. "Step on it, driver!" he declared dramatically. In the rear-vision mirror the Doctor could already see security guards starting to run towards them from the other side of the building.

"I can't drive!" squeaked Artie.

The Doctor looked at him in disbelief. "What?"

"I'm only twelve and my feet don't reach the pedals," explained Artie anxiously.

The Doctor made a loud sound of frustration. "And you didn't think to mention either of these things before volunteering to be the getaway driver?"

"I was just going to honk the horn," protested Artie. "You didn't say anything about driving."

"It was implied in the job description," said the Doctor in annoyance. "Really, do I have to spell everything out for you people?"

"Doctor!" Angie's strained voice came from the back of the ambulance. "We're getting company."

The Doctor threw up his hands. "Right! If you want a job done, you've got to do it yourself. Here, switch sides, Artie."

The boy climbed over the top of the Doctor as he slid into the driver's seat. "Put your seatbelt on," the Doctor instructed the lad as he stared at the dash in front of him.

Artie hastily complied but then when the Doctor hadn't started the ambulance, the boy sent him a look of concern. "You know how to drive, don't you?"

"Of course," snapped the Doctor, "I've driven loads, lots of loads, oodles of loads."

"Okay then, do it."

The Doctor pulled a face. "It's just been a little while. I might be a bit rusty." He jabbed at a button on the dash and immediately the sirens and light screamed into action. "So far so good," said the Doctor brightly, trying to fake competence.

"Why aren't we moving?!" yelled Angie from the back.

The Doctor fumbled with his sonic screwdriver, aiming it at the ignition and making the ambulance's engine roar into life. "See," he said triumphantly, "we're fine."

"We're still not moving," pointed out Artie in concern. He looked in the mirror and the security guards were almost on them.

"You can't rush greatness," complained the Doctor as he ground some gears, trying to find one which would get them moving.

"How about stupidity, can you rush that?" came Angie's annoyed-sounding voice. "Because that'd be really handy about right now."

The Doctor's pithy rejoinder was interrupted by him accidentally releasing the handbrake and the ambulance lurching into movement. The van jolted into life, speeding out of the car park with only one slight hiccup.

Angie stuck her head from the back into the front seat. "We're going backwards!" she declared in horror.

"Thank you for the update," bit out the Doctor as he manoeuvred the large van out through the car park gates and onto the busy road. "I had noticed."

"Turn around!" said a fearful Artie as they were now caught up with the speeding traffic all around them. "Turn around!"

"I can't!" ground out the Doctor as they hurtled along the road backwards and able to take in the shocked faces of fellow motorists as they looked up at him from their own, forward facing cars. "Besides, backwards is working for us, backwards is getting us out of here."

"Backwards is going to get us killed," exclaimed Angie as the Doctor narrowly missed hitting a parked car.

"Nonsense," said the Doctor confidently, "I'm in complete control of this vehicle, forwards or backwards." Just then he clipped a parked car, tearing off its mirror. The Doctor grimaced. "Sorry!" he called out to an owner who was going to come out to a nasty surprise at some point.

"Stop the ambulance!" Angie ordered him imperiously. "Now, Doctor!"

Suddenly two police cars with their own sirens blaring popped out from separate side streets in hot pursuit of the stolen vehicle.

Angie gasped. "Go faster, go faster!"

"Women," clucked the Doctor, "no matter the age, you never know where you are with them."

Artie clung to his seat. "Are we going to jail?" he fretted.

"Don't be ridiculous," said the Doctor jovially. "You're far too young for jail."

"Oh," said Artie, relaxing a little. "Good."

"You'll go to juvenile detention, which is like a jail, but for short people."

"Shut up, Doctor!" snapped Angie as she saw how frightened Artie was now.

"He asked," said the Doctor indignantly. "Don't ask questions you don't want answers to, that's my motto." He swerved violently to avoid another backwards collision, crossing over to the next lane at the same time.

"Keep your eyes on the road!" Angie pleaded with him.

"What are we going to do?" asked Artie fearfully as another three police cars joined the chase now.

"Time for a new plan," said the Doctor decisively.

"Gee," snarked Angie, "I hope it's as good as you last one because that one went great."

The Doctor ignored her sarcasm, brain racing to come up with an alternate plan to get them all out of this. There had to be a way, there was always a way.

Right?

**A/N****: We find out the Doctor's plan in the next chapter and check out on Clara in her dreams. I hope you'll join me. :D **


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N****: Yay, you didn't all give up on this story after such a long break for an update! Colour me thrilled. ;) **

**This story is (hopefully) starting to build some momentum now as we get down to the nitty gritty, so I hope you're all strapped in for some more fun and games. :D **

**Let's see how the body snatchers are getting on with that backwards ambulance police chase thingy, eh? ;) **

**Chapter THIRTEEN**

The Doctor's tone was determined. "We just have to get back to the TARDIS and then everything will be fine."

Angie's tone was more along the lines of exasperation. "How do we do that when we're on the freeway in an ambulance going backwards while we're being chased by half of London's police force?"

The Doctor was keeping splitting his attention between the road in front of him and behind, still navigating between cars and lanes while trying to shake off the police detail they'd picked up. "We'll get the TARDIS to come to us."

"Can you do that?" asked Artie in amazement.

The Doctor raised one shoulder a bit. "Technically, yes."

"Technically?" quizzed Angie anxiously. "What does that mean?"

"It means it has been awhile, but I'm sure the old girl remembers how," said the Doctor, trying to inject more confidence into that statement then he actually felt. The truth was that it was an incredibly tricky manoeuvre and it all could all go horribly wrong. Something told the Doctor the children didn't want to hear that though. They seemed the type that the littlest things would make them nervous. Reaching into his coat, the Doctor managed to still steer the ambulance and push a few buttons on his sonic screwdriver. "Right," he said firmly, "everyone should probably strap themselves in."

"I feel sick," announced Artie unevenly, who indeed was looking a little grey-faced. "Can we stop going backwards now?"

"Artie always gets carsick," offered up Angie. "Ever since he was a baby."

"Another thing you possibly could have mentioned before this plan got underway," said the Doctor in frustration.

"I didn't know we were going to be driving backwards for so long," protested Artie. "I'm not good at backwards."

"It's exactly the same as forwards," reasoned the Doctor, "only the other way."

Artie blanched a little. "I don't think my stomach knows that."

"I'm sorry, Artie," said the Doctor apologetically, "I can't turn around, not now, it's not safe." There was another near miss of a collision as a car cut into a lane behind them... which was technically in front of them, depending on your perspective. Either way, the Doctor had to do another large swerve to avoid a collision, sending Angie tumbling into the back again and Artie doubling over and making a sick sounding groan.

Angie was upright again, head back into the front seat. "As opposed to what you're doing now, which is totally safe, right?" she snapped sarcastically.

"It's safer than turning around," bit out the Doctor.

"If you kill us, our Dad is going to have you," Angie warned him angrily.

"Nobody is dying today," said the Doctor shortly. "Have a little faith, will you?"

"I had faith in the original plan and look where we are now," threw back Angie. "Your plans are rubbish."

"My plan was fine," shot back the Doctor. "It's just that I was saddled with you amateurs."

"We're not the one who stole the wrong body."

"Anyone could make that mistake!"

"No they couldn't!"

"Ah, guys," said Artie anxiously, interrupting their bickering, "do you hear that?"

Above the screech of the sirens and traffic noises there was the definite sound of a grinding motor which the Doctor knew only too well. "Here she comes!" he said in delight.

The children craned their necks to look out the windscreen window and up. Sure enough, off in the distance with the background of a grey London sky, the TARDIS was hurtling towards them.

"Is that how it always flies?" asked Angie in concern as she watched it spin wildly and sway from side to side at the same time.

"Of course," said the Doctor blithely, "how else is a TARDIS meant to fly?"

"But-but it didn't feel like that when we were inside," protested Artie.

"That's because it has internal stabilisers," said the Doctor impatiently. "Honestly, you don't know how to snatch a body, you don't know anything about trans-dimensional stabilisers in a space ship – just what exactly _are_ they teaching you in that school of yours?"

"Not to talk to strange men," said Angie flatly. "I _really_ wish we'd listened to that lesson right about now."

The Doctor ignored her dig and instead was focused on the TARDIS which was making its ungainly way towards them. It was now hovering above the six or seven police cars line up behind them across three lanes, all in hot pursuit.

"What happens now?" asked a mystified Artie as they all looked at the TARDIS dancing in front of them above the London traffic. "Are we meant to jump or something?"

"That's impossible," said Angie in horror. "Besides, what about Clara? She can't jump."

"Nobody is jumping," said the Doctor determinedly as he pressed a few more buttons on his screwdriver. "I'm just going to drive the ambulance straight into the TARDIS."

Angie's eyes went wide. "You're mad! The ambulance won't fit through those doors!"

"Of course they will," said the Doctor impatiently. "The doors are like the TARDIS, bigger on the inside, or, in this case, wider."

Artie blinked a couple of times. "I don't understand," he said in confusion.

"I can't make it any simpler than that," huffed the Doctor. "This is probably going to work."

"Probably?" ground out Angie.

"I'm not going to lie," admitted the Doctor, "it is going to be a bit of a tricky manoeuvre." He shot them quick glances. "So, on that note, I'd appreciate a little hush and a whole lot less negativity if it's not too much trouble." The Doctor inclined his head towards Angie. "Angie, go and make sure Clara is strapped in safely to the bed."

"Clara is so lucky she gets to sleep through all of this," grumbled Angie but she did as the Doctor asked.

The TARDIS had now flown over their heads and was hovering behind them as they hurtled along the London freeway.

"Alright," said the Doctor loudly, "everyone assume the crash position, this is probably going to get a bit bumpy before it's over."

"What's the crash position?" asked Artie anxiously.

The Doctor grimaced. "Oh, I don't know, crossing your fingers maybe? Or is it your eyes? I don't know, one of those two."

"Bend over and hug your knees," shouted Angie from the back. "It's going to be alright, Artie, don't be afraid."

"Of course it's going to be alright," said the Doctor jovially. "There is practically nothing which could go wrong."

"You're lying, aren't you?" asked Angie unhappily from the back.

"Completely and utterly," agreed the Doctor with just as much enthusiasm. "But I'm rather fond of impossible things," he glanced in the rear vision mirror to where Clara's still form lay and felt a tug on his heart strings, both of them. The Doctor cleared his throat which had closed from unexpected emotion. "I always like to take a chance on them." He forced his attention from Clara and back to the situation on hand. The Doctor hadn't been lying about how tricky this manoeuvre was going to be. Currently he and the TARDIS were travelling at the same speed, about seventy miles an hour. The Doctor had to speed up marginally and the TARDIS slow down slightly so that he could reverse the ambulance into the open doors of the waiting ship. The trouble was, even if he managed that feat of precision, he'd then have to de-accelerate as fast as he could to avoid reversing into the walls of the TARDIS's console and doing a lot of damage to the old girl and them. His reflexes were good, but even the Doctor had a few doubts about how this was all going to turn out. Still, in these situations he'd found it was best not to over think things too much, just ride out his instincts and that had always turned out more or less alright in the past.

More or less.

"Okay," he called out to his passengers as the TARDIS doors swung open and he lined the ambulance up, "here we go everyone. Hold on tight!" The Doctor pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator as the TARDIS slowed down a little and the two barrelled towards each other in what would hopefully not be a collision course. Gritting his teeth, the Doctor braced himself for what was going to be a somewhat unpleasant impact, even if he got this right...

**oooOOOOooo**

Clara pushed on the door to the Watchmakers shop and sailed inside. "Shop!" she called out happily. Clara didn't know why, but her now regular visits to see the Watchmaker always made her feel ridiculously chipper. She looked around the shop which looked brighter and cleaner every day she visited. Even more clocks were working now, ticking away merrily on the walls and shelves. Clara unwound her scarf from her neck as she walked up to the counter. "It's so good you've gotten that heat fixed," she noted, still talking to what looked like an empty shop. "It was like the Antarctic when I first came in here."

"It wasn't that bad," called back a voice from behind the glass partition.

Clara walked around behind the counter and let herself into the work area out the back. The Watchmaker was perched on a stool, hunched over a bench covered in clocks of all shapes and sizes in various states of repair. He was working away on them, magnifying glasses slid down on the end of his nose. A tiny screwdriver was in one hand and some delicate-looking clock mechanism in the other. Clara threw herself down into the worn armchair against the wall and beside the bench and looked up at the Watchmaker. "Then you must be part penguin," she teased him, "because it was freezing."

He half-smiled. "If you say so, you're the boss."

"I am?" she asked in delight.

The Watchmaker frowned and tried to back-pedal. "Well, I mean, you're the customer and the customer is always right," he said hastily, "but that doesn't mean you're the boss."

Clara grinned. "Too late, you said I was the boss." A wave of déjà vu washed over Clara and it made her head spin.

"Are you alright?" asked the Watchmaker in concern as he watched her.

Clara put an unsteady hand to a face which suddenly felt pale and clammy. "Ah, yeah, I just had a funny moment, it's nothing."

He tilted his head to one side, eyes intent. "Are you sure?"

Clara forced a smile to her face. "Yes, of course. I just have these little turns sometimes." She hadn't told the Watchmaker about her strange coma and the things she'd dreamed while she'd been in that deep sleep. Truth was, those dreams had faded so even Clara couldn't recall them but there was something about being with the Watchmaker which made her think of that time more often. It had been over a week since she'd first found this little shop and its strangely intriguing owner and Clara had visited him almost every day since. The Watchmaker had said he was waiting on parts to fix her watch and he wasn't sure when they'd come in. Clara had taken to visiting most days to find out if the parts had arrived. At least, that was the reason she told herself. The more time she spent with this intriguingly enigmatic man, the more time Clara wanted to spend. She jumped up from the chair, intent on proving everything was fine with her and walked over to the Watchmaker's side. Clara looked down at the small mechanism he was holding in his hand. "Who taught you how to fix clocks?"

"The clocks."

Clara gave him a surprised look. "What do you mean?"

"Every clock has its own secrets, its own stories to tell," said the Watchmaker simply. "I've just learned how to listen to those stories."

He was always doing that, saying impossibly confusing things which just made Clara want to know more. "And how do you do that?"

"Practice." The Watchmaker laid down the clock mechanism and picked up the tiniest of screws, carefully manoeuvring it into the workings of the clock. "Patience." He started to screw it into place. "And time. For me, it's always about time."

Clara was mesmerised watching him do the delicate work with such apparent ease. She pulled her attention from what the Watchmaker was doing to eye him curiously. Today his clothes looked less worn. His coat was no longer thread bare and the shirt he wore was ironed and even the black boots he sported on his feet looked like they'd been shined recently. Clara's eyes drifted to the neck of his shirt which was buttoned up, but unadorned. "You need a bowtie," she said without even thinking.

The Watchmaker's eyes flicked over to hold her gaze. "A bowtie?"

"Yes, you need a bowtie. Bowties are cool, you know." Clara didn't know why she was saying the words, but they felt right, familiar somehow. Another wave of light-headedness came over her with that strong sense of déjà vu again. She swayed a little and the Watchmaker's arm snapped out and wrapped itself around her waist to steady her.

"Careful," he said quickly.

Clara shook her head to clear it. "Sorry."

"Another little turn?"

Clara blushed, feeling stupid. "Yes." She grimaced. "I-I had this thing happen to me a few years back," she confessed reluctantly. "I was in a kind of accident." The Watchmaker was just holding her gaze steadily, letting Clara talk. "The doctors didn't know what was wrong with me but I was in a coma for six months and then one day I just woke up."

"Did you?" asked the Watchmaker seriously.

Clara gave a nervous laugh at how sombre he was being. "Of course, otherwise I wouldn't be talking to you, now would I?" The question hung between them.

"I guess not," said the Watchmaker slowly, still staring at her.

Clara was now highly conscious of how close they were standing. The Watchmaker still had his arm around her waist and she found herself reluctant to point out that fact for some reason. She felt safe standing in his arms and these days she didn't always feel safe. Clara kept seeing those frightening monsters popping up in the faces of passer bys and people she knew. It was always just a for a split second, an image caught out of the corner of her eye but they were growing more consistent, like she was being hunted down and backed against a wall. It was a silly, overly-dramatic notion, Clara knew that. She knew these things were most likely another side-effect of what had happened to her brain when she'd been in that coma. The reality was though, being in the Watchmaker's shop and being with him was the only time she didn't feel like those monstrous eyes were able to watch her. This man who talked in riddles was quickly becoming her safe haven from all the things which had started to go bump in the night for her. The Watchmaker was her night light in the slowly encroaching darkness.

"You said it wasn't cold in here anymore," said the Watchmaker, a slight frown on his face.

"It's not," said Clara in surprise at the sudden change in conversation.

"You're shaking."

Clara realised she was and bit her bottom lip. "I-I'm just a little confused right now, that's all."

"What are you confused about?"

Clara wished she had a simple answer for that, she really did. Her life was perfect, everything made sense in it, only she couldn't shake this growing feeling of unease and she didn't know why. Saying that out loud would make her sound mad and Clara didn't want the Watchmaker to think she was crazy – especially as she was beginning to worry she might be. Clara opened her mouth to laugh off her comment and try and change the subject but she didn't get the chance. The ground beneath their feet suddenly lurched, throwing them off their feet. The Watchmaker crashed against her as they tumbled to the ground, clocks shaking off walls and benches as Clara gave a frightened cry of shock at what felt like them hitting something very hard. The world tilted on its access and all Clara could do was cling to the Watchmaker and hold on tight...

**A/N****: Okay, so after that chapter, I hope everyone is on the same page with knowing the Watchmaker is the Doctor. Of course, if you were watching this as an episode of DW, you'd have seen that straight away but I think I confused some people with how I went about it in the beginning – sorry 'bout that, guys. . The thing is, even though we recognise the Doctor, Clara doesn't because her 'dreams' (which in fact are reality) have faded in her reality (which in fact are her dreams). **

**Gee, how could anyone find that confusing...? LOL **

**But as we go along, real reality is going to start bleeding into Clara's dream reality and that is where things are going to get messy... but hopefully less confusing. Hope springs eternal anyways. **

**Thanks for reading and yeah, sorry, another cliff hanger. What can I say – I'm a fiend. **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N****: And another chapter for you, peeps. :D **

**There isn't too much I want to say about this chapter other than please read it ;) but I will point out, just in case people aren't thinking about it, that time is passing quicker for Clara in her dreams then it is for the Doctor and children. After all, she's about to celebrate her 5****th**** wedding anniversary so, in the space of a day, Clara has lived about 6 years in her dreams. Think Narnia, people. LOL **

**Anyways, I thought I'd just remind folks of that in case it helps make this jumping back and forth between worlds a little less confusing. **

**Hope you enjoy...**

**Chapter FOURTEEN**

The ambulance careened through the doors of the TARDIS, magically fitting, just as the Doctor said it would. He slammed on the brakes, trying to steer away from the centre console so as not to collide with the very important piece of instrumentation. Instead the ambulance swerved around the central platform and crashed backwards into the far wall. The whole vehicle lurched violently as they came to a very abrupt halt, the back of the ambulance crumpling in a little bit. Everyone was thrown wildly about, saved only by their seatbelts. "Is everyone okay?!" the Doctor called out anxiously as soon as they stopped moving.

"I-I think so," said Artie, sounding a little woozy.

"Angie?!"

"Yeah, I'm fine and so is Clara," the teenager replied unevenly.

That was all the Doctor needed to hear. He leapt out of the ambulance, ignoring the bits of TARDIS wall which were still dislodging and falling around him. Dashing to the console, he slammed shut the doors and immediately set the TARDIS into flight. The siren and the lights on the ambulance were still going but the siren sounded decidedly sick now – more of a whining death call really. The Doctor raced back over to the ambulance and pulled open the door of the passenger seat. "Come on," he told Artie, "out you get. The fun's over." He reached under the boy's feet and pulled on some cables under the dash and the siren and flashing lights immediately stopped.

"That was fun?" asked a very pale looking Artie as he clambered out of the ambulance on shaky legs.

"Any landing you can walk away from is a good landing," said the Doctor decisively. "It's the first thing they teach you at flight school."

"I feel sick," announced Artie, going a little green now.

Angie was climbing over from the back, unable to get out the way she'd gotten in, thanks to the Doctor's parking job. "Someone _taught_ you to drive like that?" she asked in shaky disbelief. Angie jumped down from the ambulance and glared up at the Doctor. "Gee, I'm so glad we went for the subtle approach otherwise things could have gotten messy."

The Doctor was wanting to check on Clara, so his tone was impatient. "Alright, so a couple of things went wrong."

"_Everything_ went wrong," disagreed Angie in annoyance.

"We got away, didn't we?" the Doctor asked indignantly. "Artie, back me up on this, will you?"

The boy didn't answer, instead he bent over and promptly vomited down the Doctor's pants leg with a noisy retching sound.

"Oh, gross," said Angie in disgust.

The Doctor hopped out of the way, shaking the vomit off one of his shoes. "A simple yes would have sufficed," he complained.

Artie smacked his lips together gingerly. "I think I feel a little better now."

"I have to change," said the Doctor in exasperation. "You two, stay here and don't touch anything. I'll be right back." He disappeared off into a side door and reappeared a few minutes later.

"Your shoes don't match," noted Angie.

"I started that trend," said Artie proudly.

The Doctor glanced down at his mismatching boots and didn't care. He needed to check on Clara while hopefully not smelling of sick. That was his main priority. "I'm sure Clara won't mind," he said firmly. The Doctor was desperate to check on Clara now as he scurried back into the ambulance, climbing over the front seats to get to her. She was still tightly buckled into her cot and the Doctor hastily undid her, gently picking Clara up and carrying her out of the ambulance.

"Is Clara going to wake up now?" asked Artie.

The Doctor looked down at one of his spare coats which was lying on the floor. "Did you just throw my coat over your pile of sick?"

Artie looked down at the coat and then back at the Doctor. "Yeah, I thought I should clean up."

"Brilliant," said the Doctor sarcastically as he continued to cradle Clara in his arms. "No, really, incredibly helpful."

"You didn't answer Artie," Angie prompted him. "Is Clara going to wake up now?"

"Of course she is," said the Doctor confidently, striding over to one of the exits from the console room, "but the last thing she needs to do is wake up to a room that smells of Eau De Puke." He was carrying her to the bedroom Clara used when she travelled with him. Once inside, he lay Clara carefully down on the single bed and then pulled out his sonic screwdriver, taking some readings.

"How long before Clara wakes up?" asked Artie impatiently.

The Doctor didn't answer, just scowled at screwdriver before giving a couple violent shakes and trying again. "That's not right," he muttered under his breath.

Angie's voice was tight. "Something is wrong, isn't it?"

The Doctor didn't look at her, just continued to scan Clara's inert body but something was wrong, something was very, very wrong.

**oooOOOOooo**

Clara stared out sightlessly at the London cityscape, a forgotten cup of tea in her hand. She was thinking about the Watchmaker but these days she was always thinking about the Watchmaker. The events of last week came back to her yet again.

**oooOOOOooo**

_Clara gave a pained gasp as the Watchmaker landed on her, covering her body with his own. As abruptly as it had started, the violent shaking stopped. "Wh-what happened?" she gasped, still in shock. "That felt like an earthquake but London doesn't have earthquakes." _

_The Watchmaker looked down at her, his nose practically bumping against hers, his magnifying glasses sitting on a funny angle on the end of his nose. "Maybe an underground gas main exploded or something?" _

_They both stayed still for a moment, listening intently. _

_"Whatever it was, it seems to be over now," offered up Clara tentatively. _

_The Watchmaker was looking at her fixedly. "Are you hurt?" _

_Clara wasn't exactly hurt but the Watchmaker was quite a heavy weight on her. A sort of delicious, intoxicating, angular weight Clara was trying not to enjoy. "You're kinda crushing me." _

_He quickly rolled to one side and stood up, offering Clara hand to stand up as well. "Sorry." _

_Clara took the Watchmaker's hand and let him pull her to her feet. She gave a nervous smile. "That was weird." _

"_As long as you're not hurt." _

"_No, I'm not, even though you're heavier than you look," she teased him, trying to relieve some of her own internal tension. _

"_A lot of things aren't how they look," replied the Watchmaker enigmatically as he bent down to pick up his chair. "That's always a good thing to remember, Clara." _

_She stared at him, having no idea what the Watchmaker meant by that but she couldn't help but feel like it was some kind of warning. About what, she had no clue. _

**oooOOOOooo**

Clara was having a hard time putting those moments out of her head. It was stupid, but when the Watchmaker had rolled off her she'd felt a pang of disappointment. Clara bit her bottom lip, feeling like a horrible person even thinking something like that. It's just that there was this growing need to know every single thing there was to know about the Watchmaker. Clara was finding she couldn't get enough of him. She wanted to hold onto him and not let go until he'd whispered every one of his secrets to her.

"Clara?!"

She started violently at the sound of her name being said loudly beside her. Clara swung around wide-eyed, sloshing some of her now cold tea on her hand. "Oh!"

Alex gave a lop-sided smile of apology. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. You were miles away and not answering my question."

Clara quickly shook her head and smiled at him a little nervously. "No, sorry, just thinking." Before he could ask about what, Clara put the conversation back onto him. "What did you ask me?"

Alex had a flat, black box in his hand, about the size of a man's fist and he waggled it about. "I asked if this was a little post birthday present for me?" Before Clara could stop him, Alex had lifted the lid on the black box, his face registering surprise as he viewed the contents. "A bowtie?" he quizzed her, pulling out the red and grey item and looking at it sceptically. "Really?"

Clara grabbed the bowtie and its box off him. "It's not for you," she said hastily, popping the bowtie back in the box and putting the lid back on. "It's for the Watchmaker."

Alex blew out an overly dramatic relieved breath. "Thank heavens, bowties are _not_ cool." He then seemed to catch himself. "I mean, I'm sure the old boy will love it, but they're a bit old-fashioned, don't you think?"

Clara looked down at the box in her hand. "He's sort of an old-fashioned man," she murmured.

"It's really sweet you've taken to visiting the old guy," observed Alex as he poured himself his morning coffee. "I'm sure he must get lonely in that backstreet shop of his. I mean, who fixes watches anymore? Talk about a dying art form."

Clara felt a stab of guilt over Alex's assumption that the Watchmaker was a doddering old man after she'd told him about her new friend. She'd never told Alex the Watchmaker was old, he'd just assumed because of his profession and Clara had never corrected him. That wasn't lying, not really. At least, that was what she tried to tell herself. "He seems happy enough."

"We should have him around for tea," announced Alex. "That way I can check out your new boyfriend."

Clara blushed, knowing Alex was only teasing her but she couldn't help herself. "He's not my boyfriend," she said, a little more sharply then she'd intended.

Alex laughed, kissing her cheek casually as he breezed by. "I know that, sweetheart. I was just having some fun."

Clara grimaced at her overreaction. She knew it was born out of a guilty conscience. "I don't think the Watchmaker is one for socialising too much. I don't think he'd want to leave his shop."

"So, what, he lives there then?"

"I guess so," said Clara hesitantly. "I never asked, just kind of assumed."

"Has he ever been married? Was there a Mrs. Watchmaker?"

"I don't know," Clara confessed.

Alex gave her an amused look as he leaned back against the kitchen bench. "You spend all this time with the man and you don't seem to know the first thing about him. What is it that you two spend all your time talking about exactly?"

Clara gave a little shrug. "I don't know, other things, I guess. Sometimes we don't talk at all and I just watch him work."

Alex looked a little bemused. "Oh well, as long as you're enjoying yourself, I suppose. Don't let the old boy take advantage though. If you've had enough of visiting with him, just let him know. I'm sure he'll understand that a young woman like yourself has other things to be getting on with in her life."

"But I don't," pointed out Clara.

"You can have lunch with Liz, visit your folks, go shopping-"

"I know," she interrupted him, "but none of those things are exactly life or death, are they?"

Alex's lips quirked. "Nothing is life or death nowadays, my love," he reminded her.

"No," said Clara slowly, "I guess it isn't."

"Alright, I'm off," he announced. "Do you want to eat out tonight for dinner?"

"Maybe, I'll think about it."

Alex gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "Have a good day."

"You too," she murmured, watching him collect his coat and leave. Clara finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes and then headed out herself. Taking the elevator down to the foyer, Clara stepped out to be greeted by Norman, one of their door men, a man in his early sixties with a full head of silver hair.

"Hello, Mrs. Whitley," he said brightly, "off early today?"

"Yes, Norman, I am." Clara returned his smile. "And I've told you, call me Clara."

Norman shook his luscious locks. "Now then, ma'am, that wouldn't be right. There's a place for everything and everything in its place and that includes people."

Clara shook her head affectionately at his old world values. "You're a one of a kind, Norman."

"And proud of it, Mrs. Whitley," he said roundly. "Now then, will you be needin' a cab? It's a bit chilly out to be walking too far."

"Yes, please, if you don't mind."

Norman held open the glass doors of the foyer for Clara so she could step outside and the wind was quite sharp. Clara pulled her coat around her more securely as Norman stepped out confidently onto the pavement and raised his hand.

"Taxi!" he called out and within seconds a taxi cab had pulled up by the curb.

No one ever seemed to have to wait for a taxi in London anymore. Clara hadn't really questioned it before today, but now it seemed a little odd. Everything seemed so incredibly easy nowadays. That wasn't exactly a problem per se, but Clara couldn't help but wonder why that was.

Norman opened to taxi door for her. "There you go, Mrs. Whitley, you're all set."

Clara looked up to thank him as she climbed into the car but her smile froze on her face. Suddenly Norman's pleasant, smiling features were gone, replaced by a snarling beast with sunken eyes and a gaping mouth full of yellow and broken teeth. Clara gave a startled gasp of fear and jumped into the taxi's back seat, sliding as far away from the creature as she could. The door slammed shut and then Norman's happy face was leaning down to talk to her through the open window. "Now, you have yourself a fine day, Mrs. Whitley."

"Th-thank you," stammered Clara, her heart still hammering painfully in her chest as she tried to recover from her fright.

"Where to, luv?" asked the taxi driver.

Clara swallowed hard and tried to force her breathing back to normal before she gave the driver the address for the Watchmaker's shop. _Why did she keep seeing these hideous faces? What did it mean?_ Clara sank back into the corner of the backseat, scared of what the answers to those questions might be.

**oooOOOOooo**

"The Xeon gas should be clearing from Clara's system," said the Doctor in agitation. "The world Clara has created in her head should be fading for her now."

"But?" prompted Angie.

The Doctor did another scan, not wanting to have to say the words. "The Xeon is all but gone from Clara's body but she's still managing to continue to build that world in her head."

"How?" asked Artie.

The Doctor made a frustrated sound. "I don't know." What he did know was that Clara was continuing to disappear into that world she was constructing in her mind. It was becoming more of a reality for her then the actual world around her. It seemed like this dream world had gotten too much of a foothold in Clara's mind for it to simply evaporate away now and that had the Doctor worried.

"Those two old witches did this to her, didn't they?" asked Angie unevenly.

"Yes," said the Doctor tightly, still staring at Clara as his mind raced to try and come up with a way to save Clara from her own imagination.

"Then it's like a fairytale," observed Clara. "The wicked old witches put the beautiful princess into a deep sleep and you know what that means, don't you?"

"Angie, please," said the Doctor in irritation, "I'm trying to think here."

"You should kiss her," declared Angie firmly.

The Doctor sent her an agitated look. "What?"

"Everyone knows Sleeping Beauty was woken up by the handsome Prince with a kiss. We don't have a handsome Prince, so I guess you're going to have to do. You should kiss her and that will wake Clara up."

The Doctor knew the young girl was only trying to help but such simplistic answers to an incredibly complicated problem were simply not going to cut it. "But this isn't a fairytale," he said shortly. "Clara isn't asleep, or bewitched, she's creating her own story, in her head. An entire world she's disappearing into."

"Every kiss is a kind of a story," argued Angie fiercely. "If Clara's listening to a story in her head and that's why we're losing her, why don't you tell her a different story?" The girl shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "Maybe she'll stop taking notice of her story and listen to yours." Angie bit her bottom lip. "It's worth a try, isn't it?"

The Doctor appreciated that Angie was only trying to help and truth be told, he'd kiss a purple-snouted slim slug from Knara IX if he thought it'd make a difference – and those things weren't afraid to use tongue... all one and half feet of it. The Doctor knew, however, that Clara's situation was much too dire to be handled with romantic notions.

Artie's voice was tremulous with emotion. "You promised Clara was going to be alright."

The Doctor ran his hand through his hair, a serious expression on his face. "And she will be. I just have to figure this out. There is a way to save her, there has to be."

Artie and Angie exchanged worried looks. "And if there isn't?" Angie pushed him. "What will happen to Clara?"

The Doctor didn't answer her because he didn't want to think about that possibility. His brain ceased up at the thought of losing Clara yet again and the one thing she needed from him right now was his mind. The Doctor slipped his hand into Clara's, squeezing gently on the increasingly fragile feeling flesh as he desperately tried to work out what to do next...


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N****: Hello all, just doing a quick posting of this chapter after work. **

**I hope you have fun with it. :D**

**Chapter FIFTEEN**

Angie's tone was stern. "And you'll bring Clara back as soon as you work out how to wake her up?"

"Yes, yes, I said I would, didn't I?" replied the Doctor, impatient to get back to Clara. They were standing outside of the TARDIS, a little ways up the street from Angie and Artie's school. He'd done a small jump in time to be able to deliver the children to school that morning, so that no one would know they'd been gone. It was also going to be a handy alibi if any pictures emerged of his two pint-sized accomplices.

"What about the ambulance?" asked Artie.

The Doctor waved a vague hand of disinterest at him. "I'll drop it off somewhere that they'll be able to find it again."

Angie still looked worried. "But what about you stealing Clara? Won't they still be looking for her?"

"Most likely," agreed the Doctor, "but after this I'm just going to pop into the hospital computer system and make sure they hadn't identified Clara yet. If they have, I'll just erase any record of her so they won't know who they're looking for."

"Isn't that against the law?" piped up Artie.

"It's a grey area," said the Doctor blithely.

"I'm pretty sure it's not," Angie countered in frustration.

The Doctor shook his head impatiently at them. "You're both too short to worry this much. Everything is going to be fine, I promise." He made a shooing motion with his hands. "Now, run along both of you. I've got things to do today, even if you haven't."

"Just remember you promised you'd bring Clara home as soon as she wakes up," Angie reminded him with a stern look.

"Yes, yes, now go."

The Doctor watched the children walk off down the pavement towards school. As soon as they'd turned a corner, he quickly disappeared back inside the TARDIS. Once inside, the Doctor went over to the console and stood at a monitor. A few deft key strokes he was inside the hospital's computer system and was making sure Clara hadn't been identified. To his relief there were no records of her. That was something at least. The police were hunting down a mystery girl. The Doctor knew how they felt. He looked over at the ambulance, still crashed into the wall. "Right," he sighed, "I guess you're next." A few flick of some switches and the Doctor had jumped forward to next week. He glanced at the external monitor and saw he'd landed in the middle of Wembley Stadium. The Doctor shrugged. "It's as good a place as any, I suppose." Walking around the console, he made his way back into the ambulance and after a couple of attempts, managed to get the engine to turn over. The Doctor drove the ambulance out of the TARDIS and into the middle of the Wembley soccer pitch. He climbed out and patted the metal door. "We'll just call this our little secret, eh?" The Doctor glanced at the crumpled rear end of the ambulance. "Sorry about your bottom. I'm sure you'll be fixed up as good as new in no time." He grimaced. "It was an emergency, you see, I didn't have an option." The Doctor lifted one shoulder. "But, I'm guessing you're used to that, what with being an ambulance and all." Heading back to the TARDIS, the Doctor immediately sent the craft into orbit, lazily circling the Earth while he went to check in on Clara again.

Walking into her room, the Doctor's eyes were immediately drawn to the pale figure on the bed. He walked over to look down at Clara more closely. Pale wasn't exactly the right word he noted. This close, it was obvious that it was more like the young woman was fading away before the Doctor's very eyes. Her already pale skin was almost translucent now. Blue and red veins could clearly be seen running along Clara's neck underneath semi-transparent flesh. The Doctor could see the pulse in her neck flickering away with a determination which was beginning to falter. He sat on the side of her bed as he pulled out his screwdriver, taking another reading. The device only confirmed his worst fears. Clara was slowly being absorbed into the reality of her own making. All of this couldn't be happening, it wasn't possible, but then, what else could he have expected from his impossible girl?

For the first time, the Doctor felt a real flicker of fear that he might not be clever enough to work out how to save Clara before it was too late. The time on the Dalek Asylum and again on Christmas Eve in Victorian London, the Doctor had been working frantically to save those Clara's but at the last moment, they'd both slipped through his fingers. The Doctor's hands curled unconsciously at the thought. Was this how it was always going to be for them? Was he destined to continue to find this woman only to lose her all over again? The Doctor couldn't accept that. There had to be a way to stop this, to change a future that seemed to be determined to continue to separate them. The Doctor held his face just over Clara's, searching her slowly dissolving features. "Why do you keep insisting on going to places I can't follow?" he asked her in anguish. "Why are you so intent on always leaving me, Clara Oswin Oswald?" The Doctor pressed his forehead against hers, squeezing his eyes close as he fought against another wave of hopelessness. "And what do I have to do to make you stay with me, to let me save you, just this once?"

**oooOOOOooo**

Clara darted in through the door of the Watchmaker's shop and leaned back on it, breathing unevenly. She turned around, peaking out through the curtain at the street. She'd seen the monster again on her way over in the taxi. A woman crossing the street as she'd gotten out the taxi had flashed the monster's face before morphing back into her own. These hallucinations, or whatever they might be, were becoming more frequent.

"Expecting someone?"

Clara jumped at the question, spinning around and smiling nervously at the Watchmaker. "Ah, no."

He had a cuckoo clock under one arm and a stool in the other. "What's wrong? You look all flustered."

Clara hesitated, not sure she should say anything but she needed someone to talk to about what was happening to her and she trusted the Watchmaker completely. She felt safe with him. Clara watched the Watchmaker place the stool on the ground and then haul himself up so he could stand on it to hang the newly fixed clock back on the wall. "Do-do you ever see things?"

"All the time," he said blithely, straightening the clock on the wall. "I can see things right now." The Watchmaker drew back a little to admire his handiwork. "Dead straight," he said approvingly of his hanging technique.

Clara grimaced. "I mean strange things."

The Watchmaker looked over his shoulder and down at her. "Like what?"

Clara bit her bottom lips. "Like monsters."

The Watchmaker jumped down from the stool and came to stand in front of her. "What kind of monsters?"

"I-I see them in people's faces but only for a second and then they're gone." Her face clouded over. "Do you think I'm crazy?"

"Crazy people are usually the sanest of everyone in my experience," the Watchmaker noted.

"I'd really like to believe that," Clara sighed.

"Then believe it."

"What do you think it means?" asked Clara fretfully. "Why do I seem to be the only person able to see these things?"

The Watchmaker pursed his lips. "That's a very good question, Clara. Maybe they only want you to see them."

"That's not very comforting," noted Clara unevenly.

"Sometimes the truth isn't very comforting, that's why most people prefer dreams."

Clara arched an eyebrow. "Was that directed at me?"

"Why would I direct that at you?" asked the Watchmaker casually as he turned around and headed back out to his work room.

Clara followed after him. "You know, sometimes when I talk to you I get this feeling that you know something that I don't know, like you're just waiting for me to ask some kind of particular question."

"Do you now?"

Clara glared at his back. "It's really annoying when you answer a question with a question and you do it all the time."

"Do I?"

"Not funny."

The Watchmaker took a seat behind his work bench and picked up his magnifying glasses and popped them on the end of his nose. "So, what do you think this question I'm waiting to be asked is?"

"I don't know," said Clara in frustration, "that's why it's so annoying. Just tell me already."

"Assuming I am waiting for you to ask a particular question, then it wouldn't be right to tell you what that question was." He picked up a watch and started examining it carefully.

"Why not?"

"Because you shouldn't ask a question until you're ready to hear the answer and if you don't even know the question, then you're definitely not ready."

"Could you try and be a little less cryptic?" asked a disgruntled Clara.

"I'm making perfect sense," protested the Watchmaker. "You just have to learn to listen a little confusingly."

Clara gave up, rolling her eyes at him. "I've got a good mind not to give you my present now."

The Watchmaker looked up from his watch, an excited glint in his eye. "Present?"

Clara couldn't help but smile at his childish enthusiasm. She reached into her coat and drew out the black box and handed it to him. "You're lucky," she warned him playfully.

The Watchmaker swivelled around in his seat and looked at the box in his hand. "For me?" he asked, looking very pleased.

"Yes," said Clara with in indulgent laugh, "for you."

"No one has ever gotten me a present before."

Clara was shocked. "What, no one?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Wow, okay, then I guess I get to be your first."

The Watchmaker looked up at her with an intent glint in his eyes. "I guess you are."

Clara blushed a little and didn't know why. "So, open it then," she pushed him.

The Watchmaker opened the box and then grinned when he saw the contents.

Clara couldn't help but grin as well. "Put it on."

"You're very bossy," noted the Watchmaker but didn't look put out by the fact.

"You need bossy in your life," Clara informed him unapologetically.

His lips quirked. "I'm beginning to see that."

Clara bounced up and down on the spot. "Put it on already. The suspense is killing me."

The Watchmaker took the bowtie out of its box and undid it. He draped the piece of red and grey silken material around his neck.

"Do you know how to tie them?"

"I'm not sure." The Watchmaker's long fingers made short of the job, tying a very professional bowtie in no time at all. He tugged on it proudly. "It appears that I do."

Clara couldn't resist giving the bowtie a final straighten. She stepped in and pulled on the ends, making sure it was sitting properly. "See, I told you that you needed a bowtie. You look just right now." Clara drew back and took in the Watchmaker's completed appearance. She nodded approvingly. "Just right."

The Watchmaker laughed. "I'm glad you think so." He put a hand to his latest piece of fashion. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I saw it and thought of you. It's not a big deal."

"It is to me."

Clara was flustered, not sure what to say to that. "Oh well, as long as you like it," she said, suddenly bashful.

"I do, very much so." He cocked his head to one side, giving her a considered look. "May I ask you a question?"

Clara's nerves tightened. "Maybe," she replied hesitantly.

He looked her squarely in the eye. "Why don't you travel?"

"Wh-what?" asked Clara in surprise.

"You want to see the world, go to all the places you've only ever read about, don't you?"

Clara frowned a little. "Well, yes." She tilted her head at him. "How did you know that?"

The Watchmaker half-smiled. "I could see the wanderlust in your eyes the first time I met you."

Clara sent him a sceptical look. "Um, okay."

"So," prompted the Watchmaker, "if you've always wanted to travel, why haven't you? What's stopping you, Clara Oswald?"

"It's Whitley," she corrected him on instinct. "How did you know my maiden name?"

"You told me."

"Oh," said Clara, realising she probably had. They'd talked a lot in the last couple of weeks.

"So, why did Clara Oswald want to travel so badly but yet Clara Whitely is content to stay in the one place and even more interestingly, never even question it?"

The Watchmaker's piercing gaze was on her, making it hard for Clara to think as she struggled to answer his out of the blue question.

**oooOOOOooo**

The Doctor sat on the bed, now with Clara in his arms. He'd had this thought that maybe his body warmth would keep her in this world just a little bit longer. All the Doctor needed was more time. The irony of a Time Lord needing time but with all things Clara, that always seemed to be the problem. There was never enough time when it came to figuring out Clara Oswald. The Doctor was leant back against the bed head, sitting up with Clara cradled in his arms. He stared unseeingly at a spot on the wall, his mind turning over all the different possibilities about how to fix this and having it all come back to the same conclusion over and over again.

_There was nothing he could do. _

The Doctor blinked, the foreign concept not sitting well with him. There was always something to be done, some frantic dash to save the day, some last minute piece of brilliance to be stumbled upon at the eleventh hour. That was how the Doctor had lived his whole life, in a mad race to keep one step ahead of complete and utter disaster. This time though, there was no running or chasing or fighting to be done.

"It was meant to be different this time, you know," the Doctor croaked, still staring at the wall. "Third time's the charm and all that." He looked down at Clara. She felt impossibly light in his arms. The Doctor reached out a hand and pushed a strand of dark hair from her forehead but even that felt like it was barely there. He swallowed hard. "We'd only begun our adventure, Clara, you have to know that," he said raggedly. "There was so much more of this universe I was going to show you. I promise you, no matter what you're imagining in your head, what I could show you would be a hundred times better, a thousand times, a million trillion times better." The Doctor looked away, feeling the sting of unwanted tears. How many more of these humans were going to tear his hearts out of his chest? It wasn't fair how clever they were at worming their way under his skin and wrapping themselves around his very core.

The Doctor blinked rapidly. "You and me, we're a lot alike, Clara, we really are." He gazed back down at her. "I wanted to travel the universes from the moment I realised my world was bigger than the house I was born in." The Doctor stroked Clara's fading cheek tenderly. "The things I've seen, Clara Oswald," he said roughly. "The things I was going to show you." The Doctor gave a choked little laugh. "Like the planet made up almost entirely of sweets. You can eat everything, the dirt, the trees, the rocks. It's a giant lolly shop spinning in space, you'd love it. Then there is Orckka the Lesser, the great light planet which is not to be confused with Orckaa the Greater, mind you. Orckaa the Greater has a gravitational pull which will squash you into a mushy blob on the floor as soon as you take one step on the surface. Not to be recommended at all. No, it's Orckaa the Lesser which has a sunrise that lasts for three days and looks like fireworks and life forms from all over the Universe come to see it. The whole thing is so beautiful, Clara, you have no idea. Entire races have invented new words in their dialects just in an attempt to describe it." The Doctor didn't know if Clara could hear him but his words were all he had left. Maybe there was something in his stories which would make Clara remember and come back to him. The Doctor knew it was a slim hope but it was still hope and he wasn't ready to let go of that yet. It was all he had and he held onto it tightly as he continued to tell Clara every story he could remember from his long, long life...

**oooOOOOooo**

"How do you know I haven't travelled the world?" Clara challenged the Watchmaker.

He arched an eyebrow. "Have you?"

"Well, no," she was forced to admit.

"Then my question still stands."

"Have you travelled?" she hedged, finding herself oddly reluctant to answer the question.

The Watchmaker smiled. "Lots, heaps, loads. I've been everywhere."

Clara clucked. "Nobody has been everywhere."

"I have."

Clara's look was full of challenge. "Prove it."

The Watchmaker scratched his cheek. "Okay, did you know that in Timbuktu, frogs grow as big as border collies and terrorise small children.

Clara laughed and slapped his arm playfully. "They do not."

"Have you been there?" he challenged her. "No, well I have and I'm telling you, they do."

"That is soo not true," she said in amusement.

"And in Nauru, every other month, the rain falls up and not down."

Clara giggled. "You're preposterous. That doesn't happen."

"How would you know?" said the Watchmaker with feigned indignation. "I'm the seasoned worlds traveller here."

Her lips twitched. "Worlds?" repeated Clara sceptically. "As in worlds other than Earth?"

"Yes, of course."

"So, you've been to outer space?"

"Is that so impossible to believe?"

"Yes," Clara laughed. "Of course it is." She hesitated. "Isn't it?"

"I don't know," said the Watchmaker calmly. "You're the one telling the story, you tell me."

Clara bit her bottom lip, thinking about that for a moment. "Alright then, if you've been to other worlds, tell me about them."

The Watchmaker smiled. "Your wish is my command." He settled into his chair and inclined his head towards the chair Clara normally sat in. The Watchmaker waited until Clara had taken a seat and gotten herself comfortable and then he started to tell a series of such impossible stories, Clara couldn't help but believe each and every one of them. The Watchmaker's stories were full of wonders, of worlds far away from where they sat in that cosy little room. His tales were filled to the brim with strange life forms, all of whom had stories of their own to tell and made Clara's eyes grow wide in awe. Unable to help herself, Clara held her breath as the Watchmaker weaved legends about worlds where everything sparkled like diamonds. He spoke of a planet occupied by a dragon-like people, who sneezed ice and made the best tea of anywhere in the universe. Clara found herself forgetting her growing anxieties about those hallucinations and that feeling of everything not being quite as perfect as it seemed. Instead, she lost herself in the Watchmaker's stories, curled up there on that chair, enraptured with each new and increasingly gob-smacking revelation.

**oooOOOOooo**

The monster flitted from body to body, moving effortlessly between the people who were unaware of their brief invasions. It caught its own reflection in a shop window while it occupied the body of a portly stockbroker and its mouth split open in an evil grin, rotting lips peeling back from its deformed features. The image of another monster joined it in the reflection of the shop front window, this one occupying the body of a pregnant woman. They revelled in being able to show their true form for longer. The first creature was able to feel the way they were gaining strength in this world, while the people behind them walked by, oblivious to their existence. "Sssooonn," it hissed, spittle flicking out from its rancid mouth and splattering against the window. The evil globs slid down the once pristine glass, leaving behind a trail of bile-coloured disgustingness.

The other creature gave a little shudder of excitement as it too felt the foothold they were gaining in this burgeoning reality. "Ssooonnn," it agreed with a gleeful chuckle that put nails on a chalkboard to shame.

The abominations slid away into the next bodies, knowing their prey was near and growing weaker as they only grew stronger.

Soon their hunger would finally be sated... soon...


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N****: Hello all. :)**

**I'd expected to this chapter done a lot sooner seeing as I've just had two days off, but I've been bitten by the cleaning bug so I've been cleaning out my cupboards with gay abandon instead of writing. There are not enough words in the universe to explain how rare an occurrence it is for me to prefer cleaning over writing, so I thought I should take full advantage of it. **

**Long story short (too late), I'd hoped to give you two chapters by now, but only have one. Sorry about that, one and all. But you should see my cupboards now... they're awesomely clean and uncluttered! **

**Okay, so this chapter... again, a bit conceptual, so I really hope everyone is on the same page with the muse with this one. It's all coming down to a head now, so strap yourselves in and let's see where all this is going, shall we? ;) **

**Chapter SIXTEEN**

The Doctor leaned his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands. He was exhausted. For one whole day he'd been telling Clara every little story he could think of, anything to hold her in this world a little longer, some fine thread carried with his voice which would tie her to this world. The Doctor didn't have to take any readings to know that thread was slowly but surely being drawn increasingly thin. He stared at Clara's unconscious form with a morose sense of inevitability. No matter how hard he tried, it always came down to this. The Doctor ran his hand tiredly through his hair as he continued to stare at Clara. Almost out of habit, dreading he'd only be confirming the worst, the Doctor did yet another scan with his sonic screwdriver. This time the readings had him sitting up straighter in his seat as he stared at the information flashing back at him. "Oh no," he rasped, "how could I have been so stupid. I've been blind, this whole time." The Doctor's jaw hardened, horrified at himself for missing something so obvious and exposing Clara to yet more peril.

**oooOOOOooo**

"Rise and shine, sleepy head."

The overly chipper voice made Clara groan into her pillow. "It's too early."

The curtains were abruptly drawn back and she grimaced as the morning sun exploded into the bedroom. "Nonsense, it's the best part of the day."

"Why did I have to marry a morning person?" lamented Clara as she rolled over in bed and stuck her tongue out at him.

Alex grinned. "You just got lucky." He was standing by the bed with a tray loaded up with fruit, toast, bacon, eggs, tea and juice. "Happy anniversary, sweetheart."

Clara sat up in bed and pushed the hair out of her face, smiling. "You shouldn't have."

"Of course I should have," said Alex roundly as he placed the delicacy laden tray onto Clara's lap. "Today is a celebration of our wedding, the day I tricked you into staying with me forever and ever."

Clara laughed. "I don't remember you having to do much convincing."

Alex sat on the bed and leaned in towards her. "That's because I'm a good sales man." He kissed her lingeringly. "I love you, Clara. These last five years have been the happiest of my life."

Clara stared at him and couldn't help but think of the Watchmaker which made her instantly feel guilty. "Me too," she said hastily. "I love you, Alex." She did, she really did.

He grinned. "I'll never grow tired of hearing that." Alex winked at her. "But you're not getting your anniversary gift until tonight."

"Alex, you haven't gone and organised some huge party, have you? We said we'd keep it low key this year."

"It will be."

Clara knew that look. She sighed indulgently. "How many people are coming?"

"Just you, me, my parents, your parents and a couple of others." Alex looked particularly innocent which didn't fool Clara for a moment.

"And by a couple you mean...?"

"128 of our closest friends and relatives." He smiled sweetly at her.

Clara rolled her eyes. "So, basically everyone I know in the universe."

"That's one way of putting it." He wrinkled his nose at her. "Are you mad?"

Clara laughed. "Of course not, I just wish that you didn't go to so much trouble every year."

"You should see what I've got planned for our fiftieth." Alex waggled his eyebrows at her. "It'll blow your mind."

She smiled. "I sure it will." Clara picked up a piece of bacon. "But, if I don't get my gift until tonight, you don't get yours."

"Sounds fair." He stole some bacon.

"Hey!" complained Clara, slapping his hand away. "That's mine."

"What happened to what's yours is mine and mine is yours," he complained good-naturedly.

"There's a special bacon clause in that particular vow," said Clara, straight-faced. "So, hands off, mister."

After a pleasurable and leisurely breakfast with Alex, he'd left for the day and Clara didn't even question what she was going to do with the rest of hers. She hastily got dressed and jumped in a taxi to head off to the Watchmaker's shop. He'd been telling her for weeks about all the places he'd been in the Universe and lots of others and he'd had her rapt attention the whole time. Even though the logical part of Clara's brain knew he was making all these things, there was a growing part of her that wanted every single word to be true. "Drop me off here, thanks, driver," she instructed her cabbie. Clara wanted to pick up some of Alex's favourite chocolates to surprise him with tonight. There had been no point buying them earlier because he always seemed to be able to sniff out chocolate in the apartment, no matter where Clara tried to hide it. Fortunately, the gourmet chocolate shop wasn't far from the Watchmaker's. Clara took her time picking out a selection of chocolates for Alex, waiting while they were packed away prettily into a presentation box. She paid her money, thanking the girl behind the counter and walked out of the shop, admiring the lovely job the sales assistant had done in packing up the chocolates.

"Excuse me, madam, you've forgotten your gloves."

Clara was at the door and stopped, turning around with words of thanks which died on her lips when she saw the creature standing just a few feet away from her, slobbering jaws split open to reveal a cavernous mouth with teeth broken off into sharp shards. The monster's face looked to be almost melted, the sallow skin hanging off the bones which were visible in some places. Clara gave a terrified cry when the monster took another step towards her, not vanishing quickly as it usually did. Forgetting about her gloves, she ran from the store, bolting down the street only to be met with another monster confidently loping towards her, limbs now contorting the human bodies they occupied. Knees bent back the wrong way and arms shot out the bottom of shirt cuffs, long and dangling with gnarled fingers and claws which looked ready to tear her flesh from her bones.

"Cllaarrraaaa," it hissed at her, the sound of its voice stopping the blood from flowing in her veins.

It was the first time one of these things had spoken to her and the fact it knew her name terrified Clara. She dropped the box of chocolates and ran in the opposite direction, desperate to get away from whatever this hideous thing was. No one else seemed to be able to see the creature as she ran from it, everyone ignoring the frightened girl being chased down by the drooling abomination. Clara's heart pounded in her chest as she ran for her life...

**oooOOOOooo**

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" the Doctor berated himself angrily as he checked and rechecked his scans. "I thought you destroyed them Clara, in that explosion but you didn't." He shook his head at himself for missing something so obvious. "You absorbed those creatures into your reality." The Doctor could see it all so clearly now. When the sisters had stood in the Xeon gas, assuming they'd be able to absorb Clara's life force, the exact opposite had happened. Clara had enveloped their essence into her reality. Certainly the sister's bodies had been destroyed but their energy force had been consumed by Clara's ever growing unconscious reality. At first their presence had been too insubstantial for the Doctor to have picked up with his first readings of Clara's condition but now they were gaining strength and ferocity. The Doctor had no doubt about the plans they had for Clara. The sister's goals hadn't changed, they still wanted to consume Clara and now they were being given a second chance. The world Clara had created had gotten to a point where it was self-sustaining, that was the problem. It was why Clara simply hadn't been able to wake up and why the sisters would be able to feast on Clara indefinitely. It'd be a torturous existence where Clara would never truly die but she'd be fed off, in a state of agony forever.

The thought galvanised the Doctor into action. He leapt up, knowing he now had a way into Clara's reality. The sister's were alien to Clara's normal chemical makeup. All the Doctor had to do was track down where exactly the sisters were hiding in Clara's mind and he could use them to link in to Clara's subconscious. At least, that was the theory. The Doctor dashed around the TARDIS, salvaging bits and pieces he'd need to rig up a sub-cerebral linkup between him and Clara's mind. He had to get to Clara first, before the sister's energy swamped Clara's own. It was a race against time but for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, the Doctor felt like he was back in that race. "Hold on, Clara," he muttered under his breath. "I'm coming, don't let them get you, not yet. I'm coming for you."

**oooOOOOooo**

Clara ran as fast as her legs could carry her, pushing past the people who littered the street. There were at least two monsters giving chase now. She could see them reflected in shop windows as she bolted past, felt them closing in on her. In her mind, Clara knew there was only one safe place for her to be and she ran with all of her might to get there. The Watchmaker would keep her safe, he'd know how to stop these things. He seemed to know everything. Clara was at the Watchmaker's front door. She clutched at the door knob, hands numb with panic. A frightened look over her shoulder saw the two creatures closing in on her. Clara rattled on the door knob, unable to get the stubborn thing to work. The snarls and putrid breath of the monsters were on her back now and Clara gave a scared cry just as the door was yanked ope and she was pulled inside. The feel of comforting arms wrapping themselves tightly around her had Clara burying her face in the Watchmaker's chest and clinging onto him. The sound of the door being closed behind them gave Clara even more relief.

"Clara." The Watchmaker's concerned voice was murmuring her name into the top of her head. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

"It-it was them," she gasped, still holding onto the Watchmaker's waist fiercely. "Didn't you see them? They were right behind me."

He stroked the back of her head. "I didn't see anything."

Clara drew back and looked up at him in concern. "You think I'm making this up?"

"I said that I didn't see anything," he said calmly. "Not that you didn't."

Clara's shoulders sagged a little. It felt so good to be believed. She wasn't sure anyone else in her world would. Looking back over her shoulder, Clara gazed out the glass of the front door. The monsters were gone but the frightening question was for how long? "It's like they're closing in on me," she murmured, almost to herself. The feeling of being hunted had been growing stronger for weeks and now Clara definitely felt like the lone gazelle that'd been separated from the herd by the prowling lions.

"It's alright, you're safe now. I won't let anyone hurt you."

Clara looked back at the Watchmaker and smiled up at him. "I know," she breathed. Clara took a step back and it was then she realised the shop was half-empty, most of the clocks no longer ticking away dutifully. "Where are all your clocks?" she asked in surprise. "Have you burgled?"

"They're packed away."

Clara was confused. "Why?"

The Watchmaker looked down at his hands and rubbed them together. "Because I'm closing the shop."

"So, what, you're moving it somewhere else?" Clara felt a sense of relief. She headed towards the back of the shop, nodding approvingly. "That's probably a good idea. You're so tucked away back here, you'd do much better business if you moved closer to the main street. A lot more people would see you and-"

"I'm not moving the shop," the Watchmaker interrupted her quietly. "I'm closing it."

Clara turned around and looked back at him with a frown. "Why?" His expression was so serious Clara felt her stomach turn over nervously.

"Because I'm leaving," he said softly.

Clara felt like she couldn't breathe. "What do you mean you're leaving?" This couldn't be happening. Her world tilted alarmingly.

**oooOOOOooo**

The Doctor bent over Clara, adjusting the band of wires wrapped around her head, trying to get the calibration just right. "Almost there," he muttered under his breath. "Hold on, Clara, I'm coming." Once he was tuned into Clara's brainwaves, he was going to be able to find the sisters and they were going to lead him to Clara. There was a slim chance that he was going to be able to raise Clara's consciousness for just long enough for her to realise he was there. Or he too would be atomised by the strength of Clara's world. The Doctor didn't dwell on that thought though. Any risk was worthwhile if it meant even the smallest chance at saving Clara.

**oooOOOOooo**

"I'm leaving London," the Watchmaker repeated, not quite meeting her gaze. He reached into his coat pocket and drew out the fob watch Clara had originally given him to mend. "Here's your watch." He walked towards her, taking her hand and laying the shined up and ticking item in her palm. "The parts arrived yesterday. It's all fixed and ready for you."

Clara stared at it, barely remembering how she'd first come to meet the Watchmaker in the first place. "But-but, you don't have to go just because my watch is fixed," she said shakily.

"It was the last thing holding me in London," the Watchmaker said simply. "Now that it's fixed, there is no reason to stay."

His words stung and Clara looked up at him sharply. "What about me? Aren't I reason enough to stay?"

The Watchmaker's face was drawn as he gave a little shake of his head. "Clara, I can't stay anymore. I don't belong here."

"Why not?" asked Clara in distress. "Why don't you belong?"

"You know why," he said quietly.

Clara wrapped her arms around herself protectively and shook her head, refusing to meet his earnest gaze. "I don't," she said unevenly.

The Watchmaker looked around himself. "This world," he said solemnly, "it's changing, all the time shifting and moving. There is no place for me here now."

"Stop saying that," said Clara emotionally.

"I have to," said the Watchmaker painfully, "because it's the truth."

"I want you to stay." The desperate plea slipped past her lips before Clara could stop them. She looked up at him uncertainly, scared of what she'd just said, but not taking them back. Clara grabbed his arm. "Please, Watchmaker, don't go."

"I don't have a choice," he said solemnly.

"Of course you do," Clara argued earnestly. "Everyone has a choice."

His gaze sharpened. "Then come with me," he said, voice low and determined.

Clara's eyes grew wide at his unexpected words. "Wh-what?"

The Watchmaker's gaze was on hers, not letting her look away. "Come away with me, Clara," he said urgently. "You and me, we can just leave this place. I've got two train tickets to leave from Waterloo Station at ten past eight tonight."

Clara's head was spinning. "Two tickets?" She couldn't believe this was happening so quickly.

The Watchmaker's face was very sincere as he stepped closer, hands encircling the tops of her arms. "You know we're meant to runaway together, don't you, Clara, you and me?" he asked intently. "You know that's how our story is meant to go."

Clara bit her bottom lip, eyes filling with tears. His words shouldn't have made any sense but they did. "I know," she whispered. And Clara did. Despite how crazy it was, she could feel it, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She was meant to run away with this man and not look back.

The Watchmaker gave the smallest of smiles, eyes shining as he pulled her closer into him. "Then run away with me, my darling girl. All manner of adventures await us, I promise."

Clara looked up at him, finding herself drowning in the way the Watchmaker was looking at her. The words of acceptance were on the tip of her tongue, Clara could taste them but at the last moment they slipped away. "I can't," she choked out, thinking of the life she'd made for herself. She had a devoted husband, both of her parents in her life. It was all too much to think about giving up all at once. "It's not right. Alex is-"

"Isn't the one your story belongs with," he interrupted sharply, "it's me." The Watchmaker gave a hopeless shrug, desperation marking his features. "Can't you feel it, Clara, the way our stories are entwined? How they've always meant to be wrapped around one another somehow, right from the very beginning?"

"Yes," she breathed, unable to tear her eyes from his intense stare.

"Then let's leave this place together and not look back." The Watchmaker bent his head, so that they were on eye level and she could see the fierceness in his eyes. "Clara, this is the only chance we're going to get. We have to leave and leave tonight." The Watchmaker took her hands and squeezed them tightly. "Say yes, Clara, say yes before it's too late for us."

Clara's heart was in her mouth as she tried to get her jumbled mind to work. When she'd woken up this morning she hadn't been prepared for anything remotely like this to happen. Clara struggled to know how to answer the Watchmaker's impassioned question, heart and head at war with one another over what her answer should be...

**A/N****: So, the monsters Clara are seeing are the sisters, intent on still making a meal out of her. Hope that all makes sense to people. Now the big question is, can the Doctor get to Clara before the Sisters do? Stay tuned to find out. ;) **


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N****: Almost done now, folks! **

**Thanks for all of your lovely reviews and comments. I'm so happy to know you're all having fun with this little story of mine. I'm hopeful I'll get the next chapter to you in the next day or two, I want to keep the momentum up. **

**Let's check in on Clara and see what her answer to the Watchmaker is, hmm? ;) **

**Chapter SEVENTEEN**

Clara stared unseeingly out the car window at the darkened streets as they flashed by.

"You're quiet. Is something wrong?"

The sound of Alex's voice jarred Clara out of her thoughts. She forced a bright smile to her face, turning to look at her husband as he drove them to their anniversary party. "Of course not, I was just thinking, that's all."

Alex glanced over at her before putting his attention back on the road. "What were you thinking about?"

_The Watchmaker. _

Clara swallowed hard at the sudden lump in her throat. She'd been crying on and off all day. It had been the hardest thing to say no to the Watchmaker's impassioned plea to run away with him. Clara had so very nearly said yes but the thought of betraying Alex like that was too much. Alex was the perfect husband and he didn't deserve a wife who simply ran off with another man for no good reason. Clara's life in London was wonderful. She was surrounded by a loving family and friends, why would she want to turn her back on all of that? Even as she asked herself that question, all Clara could see were those compelling green eyes of the Watchmaker looking deeply into hers.

"_Can't you feel it, Clara, the way our stories are entwined?" _

The Watchmaker's words had haunted Clara ever since she'd run from his shop, heart breaking. She'd done the right thing but if that was the case, why did everything feel so wrong all of a sudden? The Watchmaker was leaving and she knew in her heart of hearts that she was never going to see him again. Clara's fingernails dug into her palms to stop herself from bursting into fresh tears. She hoped Alex would think her suddenly shiny eyes would be from excitement. "That everything in my life is just perfect."

Alex grinned. "I'm glad to hear that, sweetheart."

"Alex?" asked Clara hesitantly. "Do you ever wonder about that?"

"Wonder about what?" asked a distracted Alex as he manoeuvred through the back streets to the restaurant.

"About how perfect life is now," said Clara slowly. "It's almost too perfect, like it's too good to be true."

"But it is true," pointed out Alex. "Besides, isn't perfection the goal of just about anything? Isn't that what everyone is aiming for in the end? No more hassles, no more worries and strife?"

"But all those things have to happen because they give the good times meaning," reasoned Clara.

Alex sent her a confused look. "Are you saying you want to be sad?"

"I'm saying that sadness and grief are all a part of life and to avoid those things completely-" Clara bit her bottom lip. "I don't know if that's really living." The thought had just popped into her head but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense to Clara.

"Sweetheart, we're living the dream," said Alex earnestly. "I'm not sure what more you think you could need."

Alex was right but those words – _living the dream_ – sent a shudder down Clara's spine for some reason. Her heart started to beat erratically in her chest as they pulled up in front of the restaurant. The parking valet opened the door for her and helped Clara out. She smiled at him through numb lips. Alex was by her side now, as their car was driven off to be parked around the back of the restaurant. He took her arm, tucking it into his side as they walked up the steps to the expensive restaurant.

The maître d' met them at the door, beaming at them both. "Ah, Doctor and Mrs. Whitely, how lovely to have you back with us tonight. Congratulations on your anniversary."

The man and Alex exchange pleasantries as Clara looked through the partially drawn red, velvet curtain to see the entire restaurant filled with all of their friends and family. She saw Liz and Ben at one table, talking animatedly with more of Clara's old school friends. On the other side of the room were the Maitlands, husband and wife leaning in towards one another and smiling broadly as Angie and Artie ran about. She caught the eye of her mother and the older woman smiled warmly at her, waving. Clara returned the smile weakly, feeling herself beginning to shake.

"If you will just come this way, all of your guests have arrived and are waiting." The maître d' made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

Alex stepped forward to follow him but Clara was rooted to the spot.

Alex looked down at her in surprise. "Clara?"

Her feet refused to move. "I-I-" Clara stammered, "I can't."

Alex turned around to face her, handsome face marred with concern. "Are you not feeling well?" He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. "You feel a little clammy."

Clara looked up at her husband, distraught. "Alex, I'm so sorry, but I can't do this," she repeated shakily. Everything Clara had ever dreamed of was behind that red velvet curtain, every bit of happiness and contentment anyone could wish for but something was missing. Nothing seemed right to Clara anymore.

Alex stepped closer and put a hand on her arm. "Sweetheart, if you need me to take you home then-"

"I don't want to go home," Clara interrupted him hoarsely, her shaking getting worse. Everything was pressing in on her. What had felt safe and real now felt hollow and strange, like these things weren't happening to her at all, that this was all some kind of dream.

Alex frowned. "Then what do you want?"

Clara shook her head at him, unable to explain why her life with him suddenly felt so wrong. All she could think about was the Watchmaker getting on that train and leaving her life forever. "I'm so sorry," she repeated, backing up now. "Alex, I just can't."

With tears blurring her eyes, Clara turned around and ran out of the restaurant foyer. She was halfway down the stairs when Alex caught her by the arm and swung her around.

"Clara," he said urgently, "stop this, you're frightening me. You can't just run out like this and not tell me what is going on with you. It's not right."

"I know," said Clara emotionally. "Alex, I just can't be here. This isn't where I belong."

Alex looked stunned. "That's crazy. Of course you belong here, with me, with everyone who loves you."

"Clara?" Her mother's worried voice came down to her from the top of the stairs.

"Mum," choked Clara, hating herself for worrying the people who loved her.

Her mother walked down the steps so she was on the same level as Clara and Alex. "Honey, what's going on? Why aren't you coming in?"

Clara blinked back tears. "Mum, I have somewhere else I need to be." She glanced at Alex's wristwatch. The time read 7:32pm. There might still be enough time to get to Waterloo Station in time. "I can't explain, it's just where I need to be."

"Clara," said her mother unhappily, "you're not making any sense. Come inside and sit down, we can talk about whatever is upsetting you like this." Her face softened. "Honey, we love you, we can work out whatever is going on with you, I promise."

Clara stared at her mother's kind face, lips curled up in a loving smile and she almost gave in. To simply walk back into that restaurant would be the smart thing to do, it was the thing which made sense. What didn't make sense was even contemplating throwing her whole life out the window for some mysterious man and run off into an unknown future.

Her mother held out her hand to Clara. "Come on, honey, let's get out of the cold. Everything is going to be fine, trust me."

At war with her emotions, Clara started to reach out and take her mother's hand but then the Watchmaker was back in her head.

"_You know we're meant to runaway together, don't you, Clara, you and me? You know that's how our story is meant to go."_

Clara snatched her hand away and shook her head at them both. "No, I can't, I'm sorry," she rasped. Turning around, Clara dashed down the rest of the stairs.

"Clara!" Alex shouted her name behind her.

She looked back over her shoulder just in time to see Alex morph into one of those slobbering creatures. Clara gave a frightened cry as her mother shape-shifted too and then they were both giving chase. Terrified legs leapt into action as Clara broke into a run down the snow-covered streets. "HELP!" she cried out but the few people on the streets didn't pay her any attention. "Please, someone!" No one came to her aid and Clara was forced to run as fast as she could to get away from the snapping beasts behind her. A quick glance back showed the monsters were gaining on her, spindly legs, hair-covered legs closing the distance between them slowly but surely. Clouds of rancid breath were being snorted from flaring nostrils. A disgusting yellow drool was being slobbered from their gaping, cavernous mouths as they closed in on Clara. She turned back around and ran for her life…

**oooOOOOooo**

The Doctor made a final adjustment to the wires spiralling out from the thin band of metal around Clara's head. He then reached up a hand and made a similar adjustment to the wire-laden metal band around his own head. "This is going to work, Clara," he said confidently. The Doctor had to sound confident because he didn't feel it. Clara's heart rate had just jumped up dramatically and she was looking more and more translucent. The sisters were closing in on her, of that the Doctor had no doubt. That was bad news, but, it also meant the sister's rampaging alien energy source should be easy to hone in on. Once he'd found the sisters, the Doctor was confident he'd find Clara and then it was just a matter of establishing a symbiotic link with her and theoretically, he'd be able to lead her out of the subconscious world of her own making. A determined look passed over the Doctor's features. "Alright, Clara Oswald," he said firmly, "let's do this already." The Doctor reached down with one hand to connect the last wire on Clara's head band and immediately he was engulfed in a white light which caused him to spasm involuntarily.

**oooOOOOooo**

One of the monsters had gotten ahead of Clara and now she realised they were trying to herd her away from the main street and into a back alley. Clara was having none of that. The monster ahead of her was circling back in front of her, trying to cut her off but at the last moment, Clara darted to her left and slid under a parked mini-van. She'd almost made it to the other side when the other monster managed to hook its misshapen claws into the end of Clara's coat. "No!" she gasped as the monster pulled her back under the van, eager to capture its prize. Clara wiggled out of her coat, escaping its clutches but just as she was about to finally manage to clear the underside of the van, clawing hands tore at her flesh. Jagged nails ripped through the flesh of Clara's upper arm. A pained cry was forced from her lips at the feeling of her skin being torn apart, warm blood gushing out from the wound…

**oooOOOOooo**

The Doctor glanced a flash of a dark London cityscape, a jumble of dark sky and white, snow-covered streets and felt the cold night air scrape against his skin. He was unable to focus and properly get his bearings in Clara's world before he was assaulted with the smell of fetid breath and the sound of snapping jaws. The Doctor heard Clara scream and that was the last thing he knew before a wave of pure energy pushed his disembodied form out of her subconscious. The force of virtual expulsion had the Doctor being physically flung across the room. He crashed into the book case lining Clara's bedroom and fell to the ground in a painful heap before the book case toppled over on top of him. The Doctor groaned from under the wordy avalanche. "Why do books hate me all of a sudden?" he complained shakily. He pushed himself up, wincing as his head threatened to split in two. The metal band around his head was smoking and the Doctor could swear he could smell burnt hair. He pulled off the ruined piece of DIY cerebral fusion apparatus and threw it across the room in disgust. It was of no use to him now. The thought made the Doctor grind his teeth in frustration. An unsteady hand to his face revealed a trickle of blood coming from his nose. The Doctor didn't know if that was from his collision with the book case or simply from the sheer force of the energy the terrified Clara was emitting. "Clara," he said raggedly, staggering back over to check on her. The breath left his body in a horrified rasp when he saw blood gushing from three deep scratches in her arm. The red river was soaking into the bed sheets Clara lay on and dripped down onto the floor. "No, no," said the Doctor hoarsely. Those things he'd only glanced at during his brief trip into Clara's world were tearing her apart. The reality Clara had created was so real for her now, whatever happened in her dream world was actually physically happening to her in the real one.

The Doctor grabbed at the other end of the bed sheet, quickly tearing it up into strips and wrapping it around Clara's injured arm. "It's alright," he babbled, "it's just a bit of a scratch, you're going to be fine, Clara. This is nothing." Only it wasn't nothing. Clara was being hunted down and savaged right before the Doctor's very eyes and his last hope of rescuing her was currently smouldering in the corner. There was no way into the world Clara had made now, she had to find her own way out and the thought sent a cold chill through the Doctor's body. He bent down low, so his face was just above hers. "Don't give up, Clara," he pleaded with her urgently. "Fight, fight back, find somewhere safe, I know you can do this." The Doctor cupped her face. "Your story isn't done with yet."

_It couldn't be. _

**A/N****: And, oh yeah, another cliff hanger. Come on, guys, you're not really surprised, are you? LOL **


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N****: Okay, guys, here we are, the chapter which is (hopefully) the big payoff for reading the rest of the story. It all comes down to this chapter to try and bring all the strands of this story together in a believable and satisfying way. **

**So... no pressure then. . **

**There is still one more chapter to go after this one, so we're not quite done yet. I'll just let you get on and read this chapter though, because I'm nervous about how you're going to find it and if it will satisfy folks. **

**So, here goes nothing...**

**Chapter EIGHTEEN**

The stink of the monster's breath washed over Clara as she managed to pull her arm free. She rolled to her feet just as the other monster jumped up on the bonnet of a nearby car. It snapped and snarled at her, sunken eyes flashing a rapacious hunger and Clara knew it was for her. The thought galvanised her into action. She turned and ran again, the second monster jumping down from the car to give chase as the other one wiggled out from underneath the van. Clara ignored the blood rushing down her arm and concentrated on how to get away from these things. Up ahead of her, at an intersection, a taxi was waiting for the lights to change. Clara sped up, needing to catch it before the growling creatures pounding down the road caught her. She made it to the taxi and yanked the door open, throwing herself in.

"I ain't workin', lady," said the taxi driver. "I've finished my shift."

"I'll give you double the fare to take me to Waterloo Station," she said rapidly, pulling the door behind her closed just as the monsters caught her up. Gnarled claws dug into the metal of the cab door, slicing through it as though it was butter. Clara hit the lock button on the back door and slunk back into the other side of the back seat. The monsters hot, fetid breath steamed the taxi windows as they clawed at her through the glass.

"Double?" repeated the taxi driver with interest, seeming oblivious to what was happening to his cab.

"Yes!" hissed Clara as one of the monsters jumped on the roof. The taxi sagged under its weight, the roof buckling in a little. Clara looked up at it the bent interior fearfully. "Just drive!" she yelled at him. "I'll triple it if you can get me there before eight!"

The light had finally changed and the taxi driver put his foot down, clearly keen to earn the extra money. The taxi lurched forward, throwing Clara about on the back seat but it also caught the monsters off-guard. The one on the roof must have lost its footing because there was a loud thump as it fell over and then rolled down the back window and bounced off the boot, crashing to the road below. Clara twisted around in her seat to look back at the monster staggering to its feet as the other one joined him. They started to give chase but the taxi had a clear run and they were too fast for them. The vile creatures became distant dots in the scenery behind them and it was only then Clara let out the breath she didn't realise she'd been holding. She turned back around and sagged into the backseat, heart still racing a mile a minute.

The taxi driver glanced in the rear vision mirror at her. "So," he said casually, "rough night?"

"You don't know the half of it," she said shakily. Clara met his gaze in the mirror. "Did you really not see all that?"

"See all what?"

She shook her head in disbelief. "Nothing," Clara muttered. She glanced at the digital display on the taxi's dash. "Can we make it to the station by eight?" Clara fretted.

"Course we can," said the man jovially. "I know a few short cuts."

Those short cuts felt like they shortened Clara's life expectancy as she was thrown around in the backseat of the cab, darting down back alleys and side streets but at 8pm precisely, he was pulling up in front of the busy station.

"There you go," he said in satisfaction. "Told you."

Clara was still nervously on the lookout for those creatures. She pulled a handful of money out of her purse. "Thank you, thank you so much," said Clara quickly as she shoved money at the man. "You've just saved my life."

"Don't want to miss that train, huh?" said the man, counting his money.

"I really don't," said Clara with heartfelt emotion. She scrambled out of the car. "Thank you."

"No," said the cabbie as he finished counting his money and grinned, "thank _you_, lady."

Clara bolted out of the cab and headed in through the entrance of Waterloo Station. Despite the time, the place was still filled with people waiting for trains or getting off them. Clara didn't know which train the Watchmaker was going to be leaving on, just when it was supposed to leave. She ran forwards, looking about herself frantically and hoping to spot him in the crowds of people. Clara was also keeping a fearful eye out for those monsters. They seemed to be able to find her anywhere, like they knew her every move. All Clara could think about was finding the Watchmaker as she ran up and down different platforms, desperately searching for him. It was nearly 8:10pm now and Clara was beginning to panic. The Watchmaker could already be on one of those trains pulled up at the station. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Clara couldn't give up though, she had to find him. She jumped up on a nearby seat to be able to look above the crowds of people. Her eyes darted this way and that, trying to find that familiar mop of brown hair, conscious of every passing second.

**oooOOOOooo**

The Doctor blinked back tears as he looked down at Clara's still form. There were no more wounds on her slight form and he'd stopped the bleeding from her arm, but he had been able to do nothing else for his newest companion. The Doctor leant over her, feeling the waves of desolation crash over him as he pressed his forehead against her, knowing he was going to be losing her all over again. "I'm here, I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm not leaving you," he whispered achingly, closing his eyes against the threatening tears and wondering how he was going to find the strength to lose her yet again. "Clara." He said her name raggedly, wishing desperately for just a few more minutes with her.

**oooOOOOooo**

"Clara!"

The sound of her name being shouted above the general hustle and bustle of the people around her had Clara's heart in her mouth. She followed the sound of the voice and immediately saw the Watchmaker standing on a platform one over from hers. He was looking at her with an expression of thrilled amazement.

"Watchmaker!" she shouted back at him, feeling a huge, foolish grin light up her face. Clara jumped down from the seat, trying to keep her eyes on the Watchmaker as he immediately started to head towards her. Clara abruptly lost sight of him and the panic was back, heart pounding until she was at the edge of the platform and saw the Watchmaker racing across the train tracks. Clara didn't think, she just reacted, jumping down off the platform onto the tracks as well. They met somewhere in the middle, Clara leaping into the Watchmaker's arms and clinging to him tightly, feet dangling off the ground.

The Watchmaker hugged her fiercely to him. "You're here," he said unsteadily and then drew back, looking at her in wonder. "You're here."

The smile on Clara's face was so big it was actually hurting her cheeks. "I'm here," she agreed unsteadily.

"I was too scared to hope." The Watchmaker dropped her back down so Clara's feet were back on the ground. It was then he saw her bloody arm, face immediately creasing in concern. "You're hurt," he rasped. "And you're shaking." The Watchmaker quickly took off his coat and put it on Clara, no doubt hoping to warm her up. "What happened?" he asked urgently. "Who did this to you?"

Clara shook her head at him, eyes shining with unshed tears as she snuggled into the coat, the warmth and scent of the Watchmaker's body still lingering in the woollen cloth. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is that I'm here now." She looked up at him, voice tremulous with emotion. "Still got that extra ticket?"

The Watchmaker's face became more serious. "Clara, are you sure? If you come with me, everything will change. This life you know, you'll lose it forever."

Clara swallowed hard. "I-I know."

"You're giving up a lot, Clara," said the Watchmaker earnestly. "You have to be sure, otherwise this won't work."

Clara bit her bottom lip, knowing that everything had been leading to this moment. She had to make a decision and a lot of thoughts clamoured to be heard in her head but Clara could only really hear one. The thought of losing the Watchmaker had sent her into a panic and despite how perfect every other part of her life seemed to be, without him in her life, then nothing felt right. She opened her mouth, to tell the Watchmaker so but then a movement behind him caught Clara's eye. A gasp of fear escaped her lips as she saw one of the monsters running along the platform amongst the unaware people. Its misshapen head was swinging this way and that, clearly looking for her. Clara's hand clutched at the Watchmaker's arm as he twisted around to see what she was staring at so fearfully. The monster spied them as he did, stopping in its tracks and emitting a loud shriek. Its partner emitted an answering howl from somewhere else in the station.

"That doesn't look friendly," commented the Watchmaker in surprise.

"You can see it?" gasped Clara.

"Yes," said the Watchmaker hastily, "but what's worse is that it can see us." The monster had jumped down onto the train tracks and was loping towards them at an increasing speed. The Watchmaker grabbed Clara's hand. "Run!" he ordered her.

Clara didn't really need to be told as she clutched tightly at the Watchmaker's hand and immediately kept pace with him as they dashed along the tracks as fast as they could. Once again the sound of the snapping jaws was behind Clara as the monster closed in on them. She and the Watchmaker ran up the track lines, away from the platforms and disappeared into the tunnels. There was another guttural howl behind them and a quick glance over her shoulder confirmed the worst for Clara. The other monster had found them as well and now both of them were hurtling towards her and the Watchmaker. The ground beneath their feet began to rumble and for a split second, Clara didn't know why. The Watchmaker did though as he pulled her to the side of the tracks they were running on.

"Train!" he yelled, not breaking his stride but making sure they weren't on the tracks which were about to bear the oncoming training.

The noise of the approaching train became almost deafening and then the lights appeared around the bend as the huge vehicle charged along the tracks. The Watchmaker pulled Clara up along the tiny walkway which ran the length of the tunnels, making sure they were nowhere near the train as it barrelled past. As it did thunder by, Clara felt her whole body shake with the force of the large train whipping past. She clutched at the Watchmaker's arm, feeling her feet slip on the shaking ground. The train whistle past them but the monsters were still hot on their trail and Clara knew they were never going to be able to outrun them. She was about to tell the Watchmaker it was no use when he suddenly stopped and yanked open a metal door. Before Clara knew what was happening he was pulling her through into the tiny room and slamming the door shut behind him. Clara tried to catch her breath, looking around their dim surrounds uncertainly as the Watchmaker slid the bolt shut on the lock.

"Where are we?" she panted.

"It's some kind of worker's room," explained the Watchmaker. "Back in the day, when these tunnels were being built, workers would come here to rest."

Clara looked around, judging that there was probably just enough room for a few men to stretch out on a camp bed, if they didn't mind getting up close and personal. In one corner was a rudimentary sink with a rusted tap. Unfortunately Clara couldn't see any kind of weapons and she looked at the Watchmaker in concern. "I don't see another way out."

The monsters had reached the little room and threw themselves against the door. The metal shook under the force, the hinges groaning. "There isn't another way out," admitted the Watchmaker as he hastily went to stand with Clara as far as they could away from that door. Growling shrieks filled the air as the creatures worked feverishly to get inside. The metal of the door buckled in one area as a body was thrown against it. The scrape of dirty claws gouging out metal put Clara's teeth on edge.

"We're trapped," said Clara fearfully. "I should never have come here. Now they're going to kill you too."

The Watchmaker pulled her into his arms. "Clara, this is the only place I want to be," he said determinedly. "I told you, we're meant to be together."

"We're going to die together," said Clara emotionally, tears filling her eyes. The howling of the monsters was getting louder, the attacks on the door more frenetic. A rusted hinge popped off the wall, causing the door to shudder more violently now.

The Watchmaker cupped her face, expression fierce. "If we are, this is your last chance, Clara, the last chance to ask me that question I've been waiting for."

Clara stared up at him, eyes wide, heart hammering painfully in her chest. Even as certain death closed in on them, she suddenly knew the question the Watchmaker meant. "Who-who are you?" she whispered fearfully. Part of the door was bent away from the wall now and one of the creatures was able to stick its head and one arm through. The monster's snorting breath filled the small room as its arm flailed around in a vain attempt to reach them but Clara ignored it completely, seeing only the man in front of her. "Who are you, Watchmaker? What's your name?"

The barest of smiles touched his lips as his thumbs stroked her flushed cheeks. "You know who I am," he said softly, gaze intently holding hers. "You've always known, Clara, you just have to remember."

Suddenly Clara couldn't breathe and the reason her heart was pounding so painfully in her chest wasn't because of those raging animals outside the door anymore. Everything that had happened to her in the last six years flashed before her eyes in a jumble of memories and feelings. Clara's head spun with the force of it all flicking before her mind's eye. The memories stopped at her waking up in that hospital bed and the one word which had been on her lips. The word she'd long since forgotten about until that moment. "Doctor," she breathed, the name immediately finding a home on her lips. "Doctor..." Another hinge on door gave way, flying across the room and bouncing off a wall as the monster clawed its way into the room, closing in the two of them.

**oooOOOOooo**

Clara was almost gone, the Doctor could feel it. The sisters had nearly claimed their prize and the devastation washed over him in waves. The Doctor lifted his forehead from Clara's and knew this was the moment he'd been dreading. The moment where he was being forced to say goodbye to her yet again. "Clara," he whispered achingly and then the Doctor did the only thing left to do. He closed the small space left between them to kiss this bright, bubbly, warm impossible girl from his life. Their lips met, the softest of touches...

**oooOOOOooo**

The Watchmaker smiled at the name on Clara's lips. "Clara," he returned her name tenderly.

Memories of the Doctor washed over Clara, threatening to drown her. How could she have forgotten the slightly goofy alien in his little blue box? The one who'd shown her things and places she couldn't have even dreamed of. "Doctor," she choked out emotionally, finally knowing now why the Watchmaker had such a place in her heart. Clara wrapped her arms around his neck and went up on her tippy toes. "Doctor." Clara pressed her lips firmly against his, knowing this was going to be her last act in this life. The first creature was through the broken door now, vein-covered arms clawing out for them, bits of putrid spittle spraying out from its decaying mouth as the second monster pushed its way into the tiny room, just as ravenous, jaws snapped and snarled, intent on devouring them completely.

** oooOOOOooo**

The Doctor squeezed his eyes close and pressed his lips to Clara's barely there flesh. It was terrifying how little of her was left to even grant this simple act of tenderness. Suddenly a white hot energy pulsated from the Doctor's lips, he was unable to tell if it was coming from him or Clara but it consumed him in a split second, blinding him to everything but the light and the woman in his arms.

**oooOOOOooo**

Clara kept her eyes pressed shut, not wanting to see those creatures tearing into her tender skin, only wanting to feel the Doctor in these last few seconds of life. Abruptly a pinpoint of brilliant white light lit up the inside of her eyelids, pinpoints which rapidly exploded into a huge ball of blinding, warm light. Clara's whole body tingled as it was consumed by the glow. A sharp claw dug into her back but Clara barely felt the pain. She clung to the Doctor, not knowing what was happening, just knowing she wasn't going to let him go again. The roar in her ears was deafening as Clara clung to that kiss, her body feeling like it was being heated from the inside out. The world around her started to fade, all there was left was the feel of the Doctor's lips on hers. If this was death, then death wasn't so bad Clara decided. The scream of the beasts faded as the white light enveloped everything around Clara. As the luminescence finally faded, all that remained was the Doctor, his lips on hers, his breath in her body. Clara's eyes fluttered open, not knowing what she'd see as the kiss was finally broken.

Staring down at her, wide-eyed and a little breathless was the Doctor. "Clara," he breathed in amazement, "you've come back to me."

Clara swiftly realised she wasn't standing in that dark, monster-infested room anymore. She was lying on her bed in the TARDIS with the Doctor's concerned face hovering above hers. "Doctor," she whispered, voice cracking over his name. His familiar face beamed down at her and Clara had no idea what had just happened to her, the monsters and the life she'd known just a jumbled mess of incoherence in her head. What Clara did know for sure was that she was safe. Clara gave a little sob, throwing her arms around the Doctor's and burying her face in his neck.

The Doctor's arms quickly encircled her, returning the hug just as fiercely. "It's alright now," he promised her shakily. "You're home and I've got you."

"Don't let me go," Clara begged him in a little voice, hugging the Doctor even tighter.

"Never," he vowed, squeezing her back just as determinedly.

The hug lasted for a long time, neither one wanting to be the one who let go first...

**A/N****: Okay, so how did all that sound? Make sense? More confused than ever? Hopefully not. **

**I realise that some folks reading this story are Whouffle lovers and some aren't. I tried to tread the line the show does where it offers something for both kinds of fans. I haven't defined Clara and 11's relationship, just added a little to their history. We all know DW isn't meant to ride off into the sunset with the woman of his dreams to live a happily ever after. That's not the premise of the show. But that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun with the dynamics of his relationship with the opposite sex, be them the likes of Rose, Clara, Amy, River and even Jenny. ;) **

**Anyways, hope you'll tune in for the last chapter where I tie up the loose ends with this story. **

**Thanks for reading. :D **


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N****: Okay, so, I lied, this isn't going to be the last chapter after all. My anal nature has made me take this story to 20 chapters, just for neatness sakes. LOL So, after this chapter, there will be a short little epilogue for you all. **

**I'm so happy you all seemed to have enjoyed the last chapter and it all made sense. Like the last chapter, I wanted this chapter to showcase the relationship between the Doctor and Clara. I want to continue leaving it open ended, where you can read more into what is going on between them or you can leave it as two people who care about each other as friends. I love how the show walks that line and it was my goal to do the same. How successful I was with it is up to each individual reader to decide I guess, but I think the goal in any story is to satisfy... but still to leave people wanting more. It's a tricky balance but it's always something I aspire to, regardless of whether I end up being able to achieve it or not. **

**Anyways, longer chapter for you to hopefully enjoy today. After all the drama and angst of the last chapter, I thought was could do with a bit of lightening of the mood. **

**Hope you have fun with it...**

**Chapter NINETEEN**

"To have the beginning of a truly great story, you need to have a character you're completely and utterly obsessed with. Without obsession, to the point of a maddening addiction, there's no point to continue. "

_Jennifer Salaiz_

The Doctor ran a quick hand through his hair and then scrubbed a finger across his teeth, giving them a quick polish. Confident he was now looking his best, he pushed the doorbell.

Angie's voice came across the intercom. "She's not here."

"What?" asked the Doctor in dismay. "Are you sure?" He'd been afraid this might happen. After returning Clara home she'd asked for him to come by next Wednesday, as always. A whole week to contemplate all that had happened to her and then realise that the ride with him wasn't worth the inevitable fall. The Doctor's face fell. "But it's Wednesday."

"No, it's not, it's Tuesday."

The Doctor frowned. "No, it isn't. It's definitely Wednesday." He paused and distractedly rubbed his hands together. "Isn't it?"

"Are you sure you're a Time Lord?" asked Angie sceptically. "Because you don't seem really good at the whole time thing. Even a broken clock is right twice a day."

"Shut up," snapped the Doctor, "of course I'm a Time Lord, the last of the Time Lords."

"Okay," said Angie, not sounding overly impressed, "but it's still Tuesday, last of the Time Lords."

The Doctor grimaced, mind racing. "It's Wednesday in Australia, you know."

"We're not in Australia."

"But a Wednesday is still happening, somewhere in the world."

"And Clara is still not here."

The Doctor pouted. "Can I wait for her?"

"Sure."

The Doctor waited expectantly for the door to open but when it didn't he rang the bell again.

"What is it now?" she sharply.

"Inside," said the Doctor into the intercom. "I wanted to wait for Clara inside the house."

There was a heavy sigh and a second later, the door was being opened by a put upon-looking Angie. "You're _so_ much work," she complained, stepping back to let the Doctor through.

"Always a joy to see you too, Angie," said the Doctor brightly as he walked through into the house. He looked around himself expectantly. "Is your Dad in?"

"He's at the shops getting some milk," Angie explained, closing the door behind her.

The Doctor's head bobbed up and down approvingly. "Right the shops. Wonderful, fantastic... I love a good shop." He rubbed his hands together nervously, while trying to look anything but. The Doctor affected a casual tone. "So, how's the week been?" He was burning up with a curious dread about Clara's state of mind. It had only been a couple of hours for him, most of which was him trying to pop in through the week and check in on Clara, from a distance, of course. It wasn't spying, the Doctor told himself. He was just discharging his duty of care what with making sure Clara was looking after that arm of hers and that there were no residual after effects of building and occupying an entire subconscious world. He hadn't been able to glean much from his attempts to check up on Clara though, apart from the fact she went to the dentist and bought a pair of new shoes. It wasn't exactly an insight into her soul, which was what the Doctor had been rather, over-optimistically as it turned out, hoping for.

Angie shrugged with typical teenage indifference. "I dunno, okay, I guess. I had a stupid algebra pop quiz which I bombed at."

The Doctor nodded distractedly. "Good, good, glad to hear it."

Angie folded her arms in front of herself. "You're not listening to a word I say, are you?"

The Doctor was looking around himself, vaguely hoping to gain some clue as to how Clara might have been this past week from his surrounds. _Why was he always so in the dark when it came to this girl? _"Hmm... what... ahh... absolutely, hanging off every word."

Angie arched an eyebrow. "If you want to ask about Clara, then ask about her already."

The Doctor feigned indifference. "What makes you think I want to ask about Clara?"

"Because you're so obvious."

"You're obvious," retorted the Doctor.

Angie rolled her eyes. "I don't have time for this." She went to walk past the Doctor back into the living room but he stalled her.

"Alright then, seeing as you're so keen on telling me about Clara," he said quickly. "How has she been?"

"How do you expect her to be after what happened to her?" Angie challenged him.

The Doctor hastily flicked through the catalogue of human emotions he'd witnessed so far from his various companions. "Happy? Itchy? Sleepy? Gassy?" He clicked his fingers and pointed at Angie. "Was it gassy? I'm right aren't I, it's gassy?"

"Clara was nearly eaten alive by monsters in her own head and ended up in a morgue to be cut open while she was still alive," said Angie in exasperation. "You really are rubbish at understanding anything about anything, aren't you?"

The Doctor scratched his cheek with a long finger while trying to figure out the complexities of human emotions. He chose his next words carefully. "Soo... not gassy then?"

"Ugh!" exclaimed Angie. "You're impossible! Clara's been quiet but trying not to show it. I think what happened really freaked her out and I wouldn't blame her if she never wanted to see you again."

"Clara said that?" the Doctor asked in distress. It was his worst fear.

"No, she didn't say that but if Clara was smart, that was what she would say." Angie's look was one of censure. "Clara nearly died, Doctor."

"But she didn't," he said hastily but still felt a stab of guilt. "I saved her."

"You kissed her," Angie reminded him, "just like I told you to and she woke up. So, I was right all along. Told you so."

"A symbiotic link occurred between Clara and I, enabling her to get a foot hold into reality and allowing me to pull her out of the faux reality she was creating," the Doctor explained.

"You kissed her and she woke up," asserted Angie stubbornly. "So, I was right and you were wrong."

The Doctor waved a dismissive hand at her. "That is an over simplification of what was a highly complex and arguably improbable series of events managing to converge in a single split second which provided a meta-physical bridge allowing-"

"You kissed Clara and she woke up," Angie interrupted his more technical explanation. "I was right, you were wrong. Just admit it."

The Doctor's lips twisted in annoyance at the girl's stubbornness. "I'm demoting you from my favourite again."

Angie shrugged. "You did that already."

Frustrated, the Doctor looked around desperately for something else to put Angie in her place. Clearly the child didn't realise she was in the presence of a far superior intelligence and was too thick to understand even when he tried to explain. He grabbed up a shoe which was sitting by itself at the bottom of the stairs. The Doctor waggled it at her. "Also, this runner is now second favourite after Artie. It goes Artie, shoe, you."

Angie rolled her eyes. "You're such a weirdo."

"Right," said the Doctor imperiously, upping the ante. He grabbed the pencil lying on the hallway table. He waved around each item in turn. "It now goes in terms of my favourites – Artie, this shoe, this pencil-" The Doctor hunted around for another item to favourite. He headed into the house, snatching up bits and pieces as he went. "-this school bag, this remote control, this kettle, this half-eaten bit of toast and then you." The Doctor finished with a triumphant flourish, clutching all of the aforementioned items to his chest and waiting on a suitably devastated reaction from the eldest Maitland child.

Angie shook her head at him in disbelief. "I don't know what Clara sees in you, I really don't."

Artie wandered into the room, half-dressed for school. "My toast," he said, claiming the breakfast item off the Doctor and munching down on it. "Hi, Clara's boyfriend," Artie said around a mouthful of toast. "Why are you here, it's not Wednesday?"

"Cause he doesn't know how to fly that blue box of his," Angie offered up. "He's a day early."

"Clara's not here," observed Artie.

"So I've been told." He looked between the two children. "I don't suppose either of you know where she might be? It's quite early in the morning for her to be out." The Doctor didn't know if that was something he should be worried about. _Probably._ Everything about Clara made him nervous but in a kind of wonderful, can't get enough of it way. _Which made no sense_. Which made sense seeing as she was his impossible girl. The Doctor was starting to feel dizzy, chasing the logic of Clara Oswald around in his head.

Artie shrugged. "Dunno, Clara was gone before I got up."

Angie shook her head too. "Sorry, no clue."

Just then Mr. Maitland appeared in the doorway, carton of milk in his hand. He came to an abrupt halt to see the Doctor standing in his living room. Looking down at the various items the Doctor was still clutching to his chest, his expression became quizzical. "Is that my kettle?"

The Doctor looked down at his collection of proposed items more favoured than Angie and nodded. "Yes, it is."

"Can I have it back?"

The Doctor handed the kettle over to the man who was looking at him a bit askew. "Of course, enjoy."

"Yeah," said Mr. Maitland slowly, "I will." He walked over into the kitchen and put the milk on the counter. "Are you looking for Clara?"

"Yes."

"She's not here."

The Doctor nodded. "I'd heard rumours to that effect."

Mr. Maitland poured himself a cup of coffee and added in the newly acquired milk, pouring a glass for the hovering Artie. "I saw her this morning, first thing. She was off to visit her mum."

"Oh," said the Doctor quickly, "right." He didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Didn't say when she'd be back."

"It's alright, I think I'll go to her," said the Doctor distractedly.

"Do you know which cemetery her mum is buried in?" asked Mr. Maitland.

"Yes," said the Doctor absently, "I was there at the funeral."

Mr. Maitland frowned. "You were? I didn't realise you'd known Clara for so long."

The Doctor blinked. "Oh, ah, yes, Clara and I go way back. Way, way back. Way, way, way, way-"

"Overselling it," Angie advised him.

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Oh, yes, alright then, maybe just a bit." He fixed a bright smile to his lips. "Well, I'm off." He shoved his armful of items at Angie and then wiped his hands together. "I'm a busy man, can't stand around here all day doing nothing."

"You're being annoying," observed Angie sweetly, "that's something."

The Doctor snatched the pencil back. "Just for that, I'm taking the pencil."

Angie snorted. "Whatever."

"Remind me again," said Mr. Maitland, eyeing him curiously, "what is it that you do exactly?"

"Oh," said the Doctor vaguely, "a little bit of this, a little bit of that, a smidge of the other."

"A lot of the other," said Artie whole-heartedly before he gulped down his milk.

The Doctor could tell the man was going to have more questions for him and seeing as he didn't particularly want to provide any answers, the Doctor gave a broad smile. "Goodbye then." He gave a jaunty little wave and then turned on his heel and hurried out of the Maitland residence. The Doctor absently pocketed the pencil as he hurried back to the TARDIS and promptly keyed in the co-ordinance for where Clara would be. Seconds later the monitor was telling him he'd arrived at his destination. The Doctor didn't immediately disembark. Instead, he gripped the edge of the console and drew in a steadying breath. He really didn't know what state Clara would be in when he spoke to her. He had this horrible fear she was going to do as Angie had said, and tell him to get lost and never darken his doorstep again. The Doctor was utterly sure he'd be able to respect Clara's wishes if that was the case. He had this pull towards her which made the thought of turning around and walking away an almost impossible proposition. Running his hand through his hair, the Doctor grimaced, knowing he was going to have to face the music, no matter the tune Clara might be singing. He blew out the breath he'd been holding noisily and then straightened up. Tugging on his coat jacket in a show of decisiveness which the Doctor didn't really feel, he determinedly made his way to the door of the TARDIS. Clara was easy to spot in amongst all the neat rows of tombstones. He made his way towards her quietly, stopping by a nearby tree and just watching the back of Clara as she stared down at her mother's grave.

"You back to stalking me again?" Clara asked calmly, not turning around.

The Doctor gave a little start, not realising she'd known he was there. He quickly walked up to stand beside Clara. "Of course not," he said hastily.

"Then why were you in that shoe shop the other day?" Clara was still staring down at her mother's gravestone.

"I wasn't," protested the Doctor.

"You knocked over two stands of shoes."

"Oh." The Doctor wrinkled his nose. "I thought you'd think that was the wind."

"If the wind had started to wear bowties, then sure, I might have thought that," said Clara in wry amusement. She finally turned her head and looked up at him. "You're a rubbish stalker, you know that, right?"

"I wasn't stalking you," insisted the Doctor.

Clara looked him straight in the eye. "Because, you know, I was just stalked and scared almost to death by two monsters in my dreams which felt incredibly real." Clara arched an eyebrow at him. "So, I might have just a bit of a thing about that nowadays."

The Doctor grimaced, cursing himself for his insensitivity. Of course Clara would find the idea of someone following her around and hiding in the shadows unsettling after all that she'd been through. "You weren't meant to know I was there," he said unhappily.

Clara half-smiled. "I assumed." Her eyes narrowed. "Did you really take two under-aged children into a morgue?"

"Well, not into exactly, no," answered the Doctor, "around a morgue, certainly. At the most, I'd say they were morgue-adjacent."

Clara shook her head at him. "You don't get to choose the outings anymore when it comes to Angie and Artie."

The Doctor opened his mouth to protest the injustice of it all seeing as he'd only been trying to save Clara but then closed it again. "That seems fair," he agreed.

Clara bit her bottom lip, a cloud coming over her face. "Doctor?" she asked uncertainly.

"Yes?"

"They are gone, aren't they?" Clara gnawed on that bottom lip. "I mean, those-those things, they aren't in my head anymore, are they?"

The Doctor could see the genuine fear in Clara's eyes as she asked the question. He quickly grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight. "Yes," he said emphatically, letting Clara see the absolute certainty in his eyes, "they're gone, Clara, destroyed when you left that world." The Doctor lifted a hand and tapped a finger against Clara's forehead. "There is nothing in there, Clara, I promise." He hesitated, abruptly realising that could be taken as somewhat of an insult. "Except for your mind, of course," he corrected himself rapidly. "I'm not saying your simple or anything, even though, compared to me, obviously you are, speaking in relative terms-"

"Doctor."

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"Thank you," the Doctor said in relief. He hadn't really been able to work out how to stop himself making things worse. A change in subject was in order. "How's your arm?"

"It's alright, probably going to leave a scar though."

"So many things do," the Doctor sighed philosophically. He hated the thought Clara had been physically hurt but right then he was more concerned with her mental and emotional state. Clara continued to remain a mystery to him in just about every possible way. It was maddening.

Clara turned to face him, her expression hard to read. The Doctor stared back, feeling an uncertain fear creep in. He had no idea what she was going to say next and the Doctor's hands fidgeted nervously as he waited for her to speak.

Clara held out her hand, palm up.

The Doctor looked down at it. "What is this?"

"This is me," said Clara simply, holding his gaze unflinchingly, "giving in."

The Doctor found it hard to breathe as he was flooded with memories of his other Clara, the one he'd let slip through his fingers in Victorian London and how they'd played out this moment once before, only in reverse. His insides churned with emotions he'd been hiding from for so long now, since he'd lost his Ponds. There was no escaping it. This child, this impossible girl with her luminous brown eyes and endless curiosity was under his skin. She wasn't just a mystery to be solved anymore. _She was Clara. His is Clara._ The Doctor knew in that moment, that despite his best intentions, he'd let another human creep into his hearts and take up residence. It was as stomach-churningly brilliant as he remembered it.

Clara wiggled her fingers and arched an expectant eyebrow. "Well, come on then."

Without taking his eyes off her, the Doctor reached into his coat pocket and drew out the ultimate symbol of trust he could bestow on someone. He laid the key to the TARDIS in the palm of Clara's small hand and curled her fingers over, willing her to never have a need to return it to him. The Doctor kept his hand over hers. "Why now?" he asked unsteadily. "What's changed?"

Clara gave a little smile. "Because now I know the who and the why. I didn't before."

The Doctor closed his eyes, overcome by Clara's words_. Did she know, somehow remember the last time he'd done this?_ Only they'd never done this before. That Clara was dead, just like the very first Clara he'd met. He opened his eyes, suddenly scared. "Clara," said the Doctor, his face drawn into great seriousness, "are you sure? Because travelling with me, it's not always safe."

"Sometimes thinking you're safe is when you're in the most danger," she said quietly. "I've lived in a supposedly perfect and safe world and it's not all that it's cracked up to be, trust me. There will always be monsters, no matter where you go. You're my who, Doctor, and the reason why is that I don't want to fight monsters alone. I want to know someone is by my side, facing them with me."

The Doctor blinked rapidly and looked away, throat closing over with emotion. He felt Clara's hand take his and squeeze.

"And I think you want that too."

The Doctor looked back at her studying her earnest face. "How do you know I'm not the monster?" he asked hoarsely, unable to help but remember the accusations of the sisters. "How do you know that you shouldn't be running away from me as fast as you can?"

"Because I've seen real monsters," said Clara simply. "I've looked into their eyes." She put a hand to his face, cupping it gently. "And I've looked into yours. I see curiosity, sadness, guilt, laughter, mischievousness, even sometimes anger and fear, but no monster."

The Doctor covered her hand with his and drew her palm over to his lips so he could press a lingering, grateful kiss to the soft flesh. Maybe he was a monster to some beings in this universe, but as long as Clara didn't see him as such, then the Doctor knew he could go on. Maybe that was part of the reason he craved to share his long life with all these companions. If they could look at him and not see a monster, then maybe the Doctor wasn't completely lost after all.

"I know what I want, Doctor. I want to run away with you and see the universe and I know that sometimes I'll be scared and in danger but I don't care, as long as you're with me."

The Doctor opened his eyes and smiled down at her. "I won't leave you, Clara," he vowed, "not until you want me to." And not probably then either if the Doctor was being honest with himself. He was going to watch over his impossible girl for the rest of her life whether she wanted him to or not. _That wasn't stalkerish... was it?_ The Doctor decided it wasn't, surely if he was a stalker, he'd be the first to know, right?

"Come on," she said softly, "I want to introduce you to my Mum." Clara took the Doctor's hand and turned them both around to face Ellie Oswald's gravestone. "Here he is, Mum, the Doctor, my Doctor, the one who is going to take me to every place I could imagine and plenty I can't." Clara looked up at the Doctor with an impish grin. "He's a bit strange but I suppose you get that when you're dealing with an alien."

"I've always found that to be the case," responded the Doctor, straight-faced. These little human aliens were certainly odd but endearing in a way he hadn't found with any other species if he was honest. He turned his attention back to the grave, on his best behaviour. "Hello, Clara's Mum. We've met before, you probably don't remember. Your daughter hit me in the head with a soccer ball once, when she was only small."

"I did?" laughed Clara. "That's funny."

"It actually stung a fair bit," huffed the Doctor.

Clara's lips twitched. "He's not always this soppy, Mum, I promise." She sent the Doctor a sideways, teasing look. "Sometimes he can be quite brave."

"I have my moments," agreed the Doctor.

"So, you're not to worry about me," said Clara, back to talking to her mother. "The Doctor and me, we're going to look after each other, I promise." Her eyes were back on him. "Isn't that right, Doctor?"

"Absolutely," said the Doctor quickly. "I won't take my eyes off her, Clara's Mum."

"You will when I'm taking a bath, mister," responded Clara cheekily, "otherwise the deals off."

The Doctor blushed furiously, always flustered when Clara teased him like this.

Clara stepped forward and put a tender hand on the tombstone. "I love you, Mum," she said quietly, "and I miss you. I wanted you to know I'm doing alright, I just wish you were here."

The Doctor studied Clara's profile and suddenly realised that because of what the sisters had done to her, Clara had gone through losing her mother all over again. Regret washed over him knowing he'd been a part of causing Clara that kind of pain again. "Clara, I-"

"It's alright," she interrupted him, "you don't have to say anything. I got to see my Mum again and I know it wasn't real but it felt real." Clara gave a sad little smile. "It was a sweet dream while it lasted." She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. Clara turned around, slipping her arm through the Doctor's and walking them away from the grave. "But you have to wake up from dreams otherwise they become nightmares," she said firmly. "I don't want a pretend life, Doctor. No matter how perfect I made that dream world of mine, there was still something missing. You need uncertainty and risk in your life because that's how you know there is value to it. If everything always works out perfectly then there is no chance of loss and nothing has any weight anymore." Clara gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Sorry, does any of that make sense?"

The Doctor covered her hand with his as it was looped through his arm. "Perfect sense." He knew that despite all the pain of having lost so many loved ones over the centuries, the Doctor couldn't regret letting any of those people into his lives, despite the uncertainty of it all.

"Good," said Clara decisively, "now take me home so I can finish packing."

"It's not Wednesday," the Doctor reminded her.

Clara shook her head. "I don't want to be Wednesday's child anymore," she said determinedly.

"What?"

"You know, the rhyme, Wednesday's child is full of woe." Clara grinned up at him. "I think I want to be Thursday's child now."

The Doctor smiled. "Because she has far to go?"

An excitement lit up Clara's eyes. "Far and wide to go, through all of space and time. That's sound like an adventure a girl can't say no to if you ask me."

The Doctor felt a great weight lift off his shoulders as he finally let himself believe Clara was serious about staying with him. "It really does, doesn't it?"

"I have a million places I want to see, I don't know where to start," said Clara excitedly.

A thought occurred to the Doctor. "Actually, I know exactly where we should start."

Clara looked up at him curiously. "Where?"

"Where every good story should start," said the Doctor simply, "at the beginning."

**A/N****: Any guesses, folks? Where might the Doctor be looking to take Clara? ;) Stay tuned for the epilogue to find out. :D **


	20. Epilogue

**A/N****: And here we are, gentle reader, at the end of our tale (or is it the beginning? ;) ) **

**Thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, faved and followed this fic. I've had a ball writing it and reading all of your comments, so thank you very much for that. :D **

**This last little bit is a tidy up of sorts, nothing to write home about especially but it does tie the fic up nicely (IMO anyway LOL). One of my reviewers suggested Totter's Lane as the place the Doctor wanted to take Clara. That would have been an awesome idea... wish I'd thought of it. . Unfortunately I didn't, so this is a lot lamer. LOL Sorry about that. **

**Anyways, thank you all once again for the support of this fic. I don't know who the next Doctor is going to be (like everyone else), so it's hard to know what the future holds for writing more DW fics as we go forward. They've been very clever with their last 3 choices, is it asking too much they manage a 4****th**** top choice? Let's hope not. **

**So, for the last time in this story, hope you all enjoy...**

**EPILOGUE**

Clara lifted a hand and rapped smartly on the familiar, yet not, door.

It was opened fairly quickly by a blonde haired woman around Clara's age, who eyed her curiously. "Yeah?"

"Hello," said Clara brightly, "are you Hattie?"

Hattie frowned a little. "Yeah. Who's askin'?"

"I'm Clara." She reached into the bag which was slung over her shoulder and drew out a silver hairbrush. "And I believe this belongs to you."

Hattie took the offered hairbrush and looked at Clara in confusion. "How did you-?" She stopped abruptly and looked past Clara. "Oh, you're with 'im!"

Clara twisted around to see the Doctor's head sticking out from the other side of the TARDIS, which was parked across the road. He abruptly pulled his head back in but it was too late. The man really was rubbish at going about unnoticed. Clara turned back to Hattie and smiled. "Yes, I am."

"So, there really is a Clara." Hattie still sounded sceptical, despite the fact Clara was standing right there.

Clara nodded. "There really is."

"He said he'd come to take you away on an adventure," noted Hattie.

Clara smiled. "That's the plan."

Hattie's nose wrinkled. "But, he's a complete nutter, anyone can see that."

Clara looked around again to see the Doctor was now feigning great interest in a lamp post as he kept shooting furtive glances their way, trying to work out what they were talking about. "He's a one of a kind, I'll give you that," said Clara indulgently.

"I wouldn't cross the road with that guy," announced Hattie firmly. "Why would you want to do anythin' with 'im? He's not right in the head."

"Being right in the head is kind of overrated," observed Clara. "I'd rather take my chances with crazy any day."

Hattie shook her head at her. "Then you two are a perfect match."

Clara half-smiled, having known perfection and found it wanting. "No, neither one of us is perfect, that's what makes it so much fun."

"I still think you're mad thinkin' about goin' anywhere with him. You'd be safer sat at home, watchin' the telly."

Clara supposed there was a truth to that but she knew that kind of life would never be enough for her, not now. "Maybe, but to me, this world is like a book and if I stay home, in the same place, I'll only ever read get to read one page of that book." Clara looked back over her shoulder at the Doctor who was now trying to decide how to sit casually on a bus bench. His long legs were being crossed one way and then the other as he fidgeted around, trying to look like he was uncaring of the conversation going on across the street. It wasn't exactly working. Clara knew the Doctor was still worried about her after all she'd been through but she knew what she wanted now and nothing was going to stop her from turning the next page of that book. She looked back at Hattie and smiled knowingly. "Besides, I want to know how the story ends."

"If I had to guess, it'd be badly," said Hattie dryly.

Clara shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

"I guess." Hattie looked down at the hairbrush in her hand. "Well, thanks for this and good luck."

"Thanks."

"You're going to need it."

Clara gave a little laugh. "Probably." Hattie closed the door and Clara headed off back across the street.

The Doctor leapt to his feet when he saw her coming. He rubbed his hands together nervously. "How did it all go?"

"Fine," said Clara easily. "Hattie said thanks for returning her hairbrush."

"Is that all she said? You were talking for a long time."

"It was only a couple of minutes."

"It seemed longer."

Clara tilted her head and regarded the Doctor steadily. "She was trying to talk me out of going travelling with you."

"Oh," said the Doctor and then looked worried. "Did she?"

"No."

The Doctor looked relieved. "Good."

Clara headed towards the TARDIS. "Alright then, let's get this show on the road."

The Doctor followed Clara into the TARDIS and scampered to the console. "So, where to first then? Seeing as this is your first official trip as an official resident of the TARDIS, you get to choose."

Clara pursed her lips, thinking. There were a million possibilities, billions in fact. That was a lot of choice. The sound of a telephone ringing interrupted her musing.

The Doctor held up one finger. "Just one moment, I'd better take this, it's my private line." He reached for the old-fashioned receiver and held it to his ear. "Ah, Vastra, how lovely to hear... what... he did what... when... ah yes, I see... no, no, I understand your predicament." The Doctor's head bobbed up and down. "We'll be there presently, not to worry." He hung and smiled apologetically at Clara. "Sorry, change of plans. We have to make a quick stop."

"Is there a problem?" asked Clara in concern.

"So it would seem." The Doctor arched an eyebrow at her. "Interested in saving two damsels in distress?"

Clara grinned. "Always."

The Doctor threw a few switches and pulled on a lever. "Excellent! Then away we go!"

Clara hung onto the side rail as the TARDIS gave a lurch into life. She didn't know what lay around the corner for them but that was half the fun. Adventures weren't meant to be planned and plotted out, they were just meant to happen. Clara smiled as she watched the Doctor dance around the console, adjusting this and that with childish enthusiasm. She was leaving her old life behind and leaping into a new, unknown one with a strange, alien, madman in a blue box. The smile on her lip widened, finding herself ridiculously happy about that thought. "Doctor?"

The Doctor looked up from the console, an expectant expression on his face. "Yes?"

"Thank you," she said softly. "Thank you for taking me with you."

A big grin split the Doctor's face. "You're very welcome, Clara Oswald. You and me, we're going to have a ball, you just wait and see."

She laughed, not doubting the Doctor for a minute as they landed in Victorian London, all ready for their next adventure together.

And Clara couldn't wait...

"Do not follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail."

_Ralph Waldo Emerson_

**A/N****: And yes, that was a shameless cross-promotion of my other fic 'Strax's Big Day Out' – a series of Clara/11/Strax mini-adventures – of which I've just completed the first adventure and am now going to continue on with some more fun. It'll be light, fluffy and hopefully a lot of fun. I decided to make WC kind of a prequel to those adventures. My fingers are crossed I'll see you there. ;) **


End file.
